Where White Meets Black
by ellamalfoy8
Summary: *Resurrected* Hermione's adopted, pissed and a lost pureblood heir. Malfoy's stashed at the Order, hated by both sides. A prophecy says when they join, the troubles of time will end. Also, Slughorn's playing matchmaker. DMHG
1. The Marks

**A/N: I always love the start of a new fan fic. It's so new, and I have no idea where this fan fic will end up, so there's a sense of mystery. I know this story seems kind of clichéd, but trust me when I say it is sooo not. **

Summary_: Hermione finds out accidentally that she's adopted… and that's she's a pureblood. Freaked out and upset, she storms off to stay with Harry at Grimauld Place, where Snape stashed Malfoy after Dumbledore's death. Little do they know, an ancient prophecy predicted their relationship and it's effect on the world. When they return to school and everyone finds out, a chain of events leads them where they never expected._

**And special thanks to Ms.Chang for giving me the idea for this fic. I hope you like this!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any thing you recognize!**

**Chapter 1: The Marks**

Hermione Granger knew everything there was to know about the Granger family history. She knew that great uncle Richard invented the leaf blower, and that great-great-great etc. grand mother Tabitha had worked at the globe theater with Shakespeare. Hermione knew that no one in the Granger line was anything other than a muggle. She knew that before her, none of them had ever known that magic even existed. What she did not know, however, was that she was not in fact part of the Granger family line. No, Anne and Michael Granger were not her parents. She was adopted.

She did not know of this until one day during her summer break before her final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She blamed Professor Flitwick. If it wasn't for him and his stupid charms practice she would have never found out. Hermione sat down at her desk with a sheet of parchment, a quill and her wand to practice a spell. The Generatious spell would enchant the quill so that it would map her family tree. Of course, she'd expected to see the names Anne and Michael Granger come out of the ink, yet when the quill began to spin and twirl, dotting each I and crossing each T, something else was spelled out in the script. Her jaw dropped as the names Cassandra and Alexander White carved into the paper. It would have gone on, but she canceled the magic.

At first she just stared dumfounded at the unfinished stump where the names of her and her 'parents' sat. Was she adopted? Could she really not be a muggleborn? The White's were famous purebloods who had disappeared around the time of her birthday, it was true, but how could she have never known? This had to be a fluke with the spell or something, because she wasn't adopted. So she pulled out her wand again and twirled it around. Her mouth hung open yet again as the quill picked up from where it left off, going on to detail 2, 3, 4 generations previously.

But then that rational side took over as she began to realize that maybe she really wasn't a muggleborn. She didn't resemble anyone in her family, and she had never seen any pictures of her mother during pregnancy. It would explain everything, why she was a witch, and why she was so skilled. Her? A White? It all seemed so obvious now. First she needed factual proof, and then she could whine.

It was a good thing her parents weren't home, because it let her have a good chunk of time to rifle through their offices. The private office of Michael Granger was compulsively organized, each filing cabinet in alphabetical order by subject, and then subcategorized in chronological order. Hermione paced the rows, at last finding three shelves labeled, _Hermione_. It was filled with documents about doctor's visits, Hogwarts, and her small bank account at Gringots. Finally, wedged in the back of the first drawer, was a think minella folder with the neat label _Adoption_.

Hermione sat down at her father's desk, her heart beating rapidly. These documents could change her life, could change her family. She shouldn't open these… but she had to! With a tiny second of hesitation, she pulled open the folder. It was all there, the date, the time, even the name of the orphanage. She had been a month old! Parents unknown…

Her parents had lied to her! Even when she'd been admitted to Hogwarts hey hadn't told her! She'd been forced through ridicule because of her heritage and now suddenly it wasn't even worth it? Magic doesn't lie, and there was a huge chance that she was actually a pureblood, a legendary one in fact. She was the heir of Merlin if rumors were correct! Oh this was over whelming! Great, now she was hyperventilating. Pulling out her wand, she gasped,

"Fairblocus." That was better. Suddenly Malfoy's face swam before her eyes. He leered at her and hissed,

"You'll always be a mudblood to me, Granger." Bloody hell, she was a pureblood, the heir of a line equal to if not more powerful than that of Malfoy! What the hell should she do now? Frustrated and shocked, she scooped up the folder and chucked it across the room, causing papers to scatter across the floor. She was distracted from her mental rant by a tiny thud on the carpet. Looking up, she saw a ring with a small purple gem resting elegantly on the floor. It glinted innocently in the fluorescent lighting, beckoning her to come closer and put it on.

Now Hermione was a smart girl, she knew better than to put on mysterious jewelry without knowing where it came from. However, her frustration directed at her parents and her urge to figure out what had happened overwhelmed her logical thought process. She stood up from the desk and approached the small band wit caution, circling it before resting on her knees beside it. It seemed peaceful enough, with no sinister designs. A small tag was attached to it with a loop of yarn, and when she turned it over to read what it said, she saw '_Came with infant_.' This must have been her parent's, her biological parents. They wouldn't leave this with her if it were dangerous! So she tugged at the knot and pulled the tag away, before resting it in her palm. There was no burn or spark as she touched the silver, so she hesitantly slid it onto her left ring finger. At first nothing happened, and she admired how elegant the ring looked nestled on her finger. But then a sharp twinge seared the skin on her left palm. A dark letter W was now painted across her skin. Like any other teenager would do, she poked it. It seemed to be tattooed on.

Serious Hermione kicked back in as she examined the letter on her palm. It was the mark of the White family, she _was_ a member. She _was_ Hermione White.

She needed to lie down.

Somewhere in the dodgy side of London, Draco Malfoy woke with a start. This wasn't out of the ordinary for the tortured soul, but just as he had every other night, he still frantically reached for his wand.

"Lumos," he stammered, pulling up his sheet to wipe the sweat off his forehead. His new bedroom at Grimauld Place looked just the same, with not one thing out of place. Normally Malfoy would have ridiculed himself for acting like a little boy who was afraid of the dark, but for quite some time now he had been. It didn't matter that he was at the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black being sheltered by Snape and the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't only Voldemort that was giving him nightmares.

Malfoy lit a candle on his nightstand, fumbling with his wand as he put out the light it admitted, leaving him to rely on the wick for vision. He hated the dark, feared its ability to hide things. Long ago his father had told him to use the cover of night to his advantage, but the past two months had instructed him otherwise. When Snape had deemed it safe enough, he had dragged Malfoy straight to the order, protecting him and finally convincing McGonagall to let him live at the headquarters. Few people knew at that point that it had been Draco who had let the death eaters into Hogwarts, but those who did shunned him, leaving him to his own devices. Even Harry had been blatantly ignoring him, already upset that McGonagall and Alastor Moody had refused to let him, Ron and Hermione to out horcrux hunting if he continued to refuse to tell them where he was going and why. The only people remotely civil to Malfoy, not counting Snape, were his distant cousin Nymphadora Tonks and her werewolf boyfriend Lupin. They brought him his meals that he didn't eat, and offered him books that he didn't read. Lupin had given him random hand-me-downs as well to tide him through. Lupin sometimes lost his patience with him, but Tonks always kept him company when she felt he needed it.

Of course, there was one person whom Malfoy was sure would have not treated him differently. However, Hermione Granger was absent at the headquarters, spending time with her family under the protection of wards created by Shacklebolt. As nerdy and annoying as she could be, at least he could have restored some level of normality if she was around to spar with.

But there were things that insults and hexing couldn't solve, such as the thing haunting young Malfoy. He stared restlessly around his room as the starting words to a certain prophecy echoed through his mind.

"Later generations shall provide the vital link. Only when the son of Dragons and the daughter of the light join can the troubles of time be thus solved. Confusion, names, and old rivalries do not hold a candle to love born from hate. White and Black mesh into gray, but light and dark bring peace."

A sharp searing pain on his left palm jerked him out of his thoughts as he yelped in pain. Seconds later he opened his eyes to see a black letter M tattooed on his palm.

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Questions? Comments? I want them all! Next chapter: Hermione confronts her parents, and Malfoy sulks. Teaser?**

"_You don't understand how large a difference this makes! I'm not your daughter! I've been marked! I can't even look at you right now, I'm gonna go stay with Harry._

**So anyway, I hope you all like this. I'll update soon.**

**Final Word Count: 1787**


	2. Pureblood Lines

**A/N: Yay! You guys are awesome, I could cry! As of now at 4:55 PM on Friday night, I have gotten 22 reviews! I'll have a list of all my reviewers at the bottom, so scroll down later. **

**Okay, for those of you who asked about the "W and M" thing, here's the answer. Yes, that was intentional. Although, that doesn't come up for a long time. And I know that these first few chapters are fairly small, but they do get longer. The romance will start eventually; you'll all just have to be patient. Just you wait, it's good.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. That's all I'm going to say.**

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**Chapter 2: Pureblood Lines**

Hermione sat calmly at the kitchen table, her adoption folder open in front of her. The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes until her parents would arrive home from their practice, and she sat up waiting for them. The ring still rested elegantly on her finger and she didn't bother taking it off, instead sitting completely still in her wooden chair. She had everything planned out, questions, accusations, and her trunk packed in her bedroom if the need for her to leave arose, though she hoped it wouldn't. The girl wasn't bothering to try and stay positive as she watched the door like a hawk; this was beyond positive. A car pulled into the driveway at three minutes of ten, the headlights sweeping trails along the ceiling until the ignition died. As the clock struck the hour the door swung open and her foster parents crept in. They didn't see her, so she cleared her throat.

"Hello dear, why are you still up?" her father asked her as he pushed his wire-framed glasses back up his nose.

"It's only ten," she said, her voice harsher than she'd expected it to be. Her mother blinked, placing her briefcase on the floor. "I actually wanted to ask you a question." It amused her to no end that neither of her parents had noticed the documents spread out in front of her.

"Well sure dear, ask away," her mother answered warmly, sitting down at the other side of the long table.

"What's all this?" Hermione waved her hand across the papers, her face blank. They craned their necks to see what she was referencing. "Were you going to share this with me?" Her parents froze, both looking shocked.

"Um, sweetie? How'd you f-," her father started, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter how, it matters why! Why didn't you tell me?" she yelled, her calm front dropping.

"WE wanted to protect you, you're different," her mother said softly, placing her hand over Hermione's left as if it would comfort her. Hermione yanked it away, looking ready to murder.

"Protecting me by forcing me to live under ridicule? You know how they treat me! They call me a _mudblood_!" Her parents cringed as she clenched her teeth. "Don't you realize what this means? I'm the lost heir to the most powerful wizarding line on the planet! No kidding I'm different!"

"But Hermione, how did you f-," Hermione leapt to her feet, pushing her chair back from the table.

"I just said it doesn't matter how! My god, aren't you listening? I'm the missing heir! I should be Hermione White! Why didn't you tell me, even when I found out about my abilities? Why?" Her parents offered no condolence or explanation as she looked between them. They looked about as lost and upset as she felt, but it didn't matter. "I can't even look at you right now, I'm gonna go stay with Harry," she told them, pulling out her wand. "Accio trunk!" Her father stood up, alarmed at his daughter's sudden response.

"You can't just leave, Hermione! Sit down and we will discuss this as adults. You are of age in your world and you shall behave as so!" She whirled around to face him as her school trunk dropped at her feet.

"You don't understand how large a difference this makes! I am not your daughter! I've been marked!" She turned over her palm so he could see the W tattooed on. Her parents gasped and her mother began to cry. "I can't be here now. I'll be in touch." She grabbed the handle of her trunk and stormed out, leaving behind two upset adults as she Apparated to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

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Malfoy was once again sitting brooding in his room after his mark had appeared, too upset to go back to sleep. By the light of his flickering candle he pulled a book out from under his bed, not wanting to simply sit on his bed until the sun rose, and instead settled into the saggy armchair in the corner of his room. Tonks had brought him books from around the house that she thought he might be interested in, but he had flung them unceremoniously under his the dust ruffle of his bed. Now, however, he needed a distraction and an explanation from and for the new tattoo on his hand. He didn't like tattoos, they stayed forever, and he already had one. But what puzzled him and annoyed him was the fact that the mark had come out of nowhere, and that it was an M, no doubt for Malfoy.

So Malfoy skimmed the index of Long Running Pureblood Lines for anything about marks, coming up blank. What pulled his eye was his last name. Of course it was there, the Malfoy line was respected and ancient, but he still was curious as to what it said, so he turned to page 173.

Most of the chapter on his family was drabble about his more famous ancestors and a summary on their political views, nothing he hadn't seen before. However toward the end of the passage was a paragraph that could possibly relate to his situation.

_The famed wizarding rivalry between the Malfoy and White lines has also gone on for centuries. It is said that ever since Merlin fought Sorceress Morgana Malfoy, a feud as rippled between them. Although Whites are normally neutral in times of dark rulers such as Grindelwald, they have never been respectful to their darker opponents. It has been rumored for hundreds of years that when the heirs of said lines unite, dark shall perish. However, this myth died out as Alexander and Cassandra White disappeared only months before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated._

Why was it that he had a sinking feeling that he was the heir being referenced? Why did he have a hunch that the letter on his palm had to do with this? But before he could stretch out and ponder his situation more, a loud knock from the front door downstairs jerked him out of his thoughts. It persisted, and yet no one answered. Most of the order was out searching for some death eater, and the Weasleys were spending summer at home, so aside from him, Potter, and Lupin the house was empty. Potter must be sulking, he realized. Malfoy stood reluctantly as he remembered that tonight was the full moon and that his old professor was curled up as a tame wolf in his own bedroom. He pulled a second hand bathrobe Lupin had given him off the gook of his door and wrapped it around himself, too fatigued to complain about the multiple holes and patches in the cotton.

In perfect stealth he crept down the stairway on his tiptoes, pausing to lurk in the shadows every time he thought he'd seen Potter. At this slow pace it took him at least five minutes to get down to the front hallway. Who ever it was at the door did not stop hammering away at the at the wooden frame and when he peered out the peep hole he was astonished to see the aggravated and very wet figure of Hermione Granger. Taking a step back, he opened the door before turning on his heel to stalk away, not in the mood to face the upset mudblood. She walked in, dragging her trunk behind her as she shivered off the rain. He was already halfway back up the stairs by the time she dried herself off and looked around to inquire after who had let her in. As predicted, she treated him no differently than she would have before.

"Why what are _you_ doing here, ferret?" His grip on the spine of the book he hadn't been aware he was still holding tightened. He slowly turned to face her, examining the remains of tears on her face that she could not disguise as raindrops.

"Didn't Potter tell you? I live here," he answered, knowing that he was not at all at home and not respected here. If a fight were to occur, he would be blamed and kicked out onto the street. However, he could not but help from asking, "I would have thought my mother's ancestors would have put up wards to keep out mudbloods like you, though, so shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" His pitiful insult didn't seem to have any response other than causing Hermione to glance down at her left hand. Seeing this action he subconsciously looked down at his own, pressing the tips of his nails against the black letter.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Malfoy," she muttered as he leaned against the stair railing. "Anyway, where's Harry?"

"Sulking. May I leave now?" he asked sarcastically, gesturing to the landing a few steps up. She waved him off as she began to levitate her trunk, but was distracted as the hem of Malfoy's bathrobe got caught under his foot and he tripped onto his stomach. She looked curiously at the book that had skittered out of his grasp when he fell.

"May I borrow this?" she asked as she picked it up off the dusty floor. He snarled at her as he picked himself up, tugging his sleeve over his hand.

"Whatever." She watched, more than a little confused, as he stormed off, slamming his door behind him. But she quickly turned her attention back to her new book, levitating her trunk up the stairs as she followed it. She would just greet the order in the morning and in the meantime just get some sleep. To her pleasure she discovered a large chapter on the White family, or… her family now. Hermione stayed up another half hour reading up on her family history and discovered, to her relief, that they did not have a dark past and had remained neutral, though they had a strong feud with the Malfoys. _How fitting, Malfoy's evil and we hate each other_, she thought. _Boy it's getting late._ Sudden fatigue swept over her before she could reach the final passage, one discussing a certain prophecy she had never heard of. So she closed the book and put it on the nightstand between her bed and Ginny's empty one.

Little did she know, a certain Malfoy snuck in during the night and took his book back, not wanting Gryffindor's little princess knowing about the prophecy. Of course he didn't know that Hermione Granger was the famed missing daughter of the light, and that she was more involved than he realized.

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**A/N: So there's the first Draco/Hermione interaction so far, I hope it wasn't too disappointing. There's a lot more on its way, so be prepared. Next chapter Hermione greets Harry, and has another "chat" with Draco. Teaser?**

"_He stays in his room and hasn't said a word to anyone since he arrived," Harry told her._

"_He seemed fine last night when he let me in, same old snotty self to me."_

**I guess that wasn't a brilliant teaser, but not a HUGE amount of action takes place. It's still important, however.**

**Oh, I must thank my reviewers! As-Blood-As-It-Comes, existence92, SweetMary, Bellatrix 06, flufeeness:), cckeimig, Hotkat144, missindepentent1127, CatBurglary101, PranksterPerfect, hi, BlackRoseOrchid, HeLl HaVe No FuRy LiKe A woman, afamily123, pegasusbabi, Ms.Chang, HaliJade Snape, AdienShadowBreeze, dan-lovr, pilikani, and Eliot Z. Whetherbee (who was my first reviewer, bow down). And of course, Perry and Yvonne! BTW, I don't care if you review anonymously, that's cool with me! Sweet, 24 reviews so far.**

**I'd better go. Have a great weekend! AND REVIEW!**

**Final Word Count: 2065 (These will get longer!)**


	3. From Brown To Red

**A/N: I'm going to say this again, you guys ROCK! The response has been incredible, and I wish I could just hug you all. 50 reviews! 50! For TWO chapters! Can you believe it? My personal best! I bow to you all! Thank you! You never stop stunning me! Keep them coming! And I read each one, so the longer the better. Seriously.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Stop asking. It's not funny anymore.**

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**Chapter 3: From Brown To Red**

When Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes the following morning, she saw that she was not alone almost instantly. Harry sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed, watching silently as she awoke. She yelped in alarm at the sight of him, but instantly smiled when she placed a name to his face. He grinned sleepily.

"Hey Harry," she greeted as she sat up, careful to not let him see the palm of her left hand as she wrapped her blanket around it. "Sorry for dropping in unannounced, I hope the order doesn't mind." He waved off her comment.

"Don't worry about them, it's my house! And anyway, you're old enough to join the order, so same difference. Everyone trusts you." She nodded gratefully, happy that she hadn't caused a stir with her unexpected arrival. Everybody was pretty tight in terms of security ever since Dumbledore had died, so she could have set off alarms or something similar. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"Family issues," she stated simply, not really wanting to get into the full story when she herself had only just found out. Plus, she didn't want anyone to know, at least not yet. Harry nodded wisely, accepting her simple explanation immediately. "I just needed some space and the first place I thought of was here. And I get to keep you company!" He sighed and looked down at his socks. "You haven't gotten too lonely here on your own, have you?"

"It's just so irritating being walled in here knowing that I have a job to do! At least Remus isn't as tight lipped about the Order's plans anymore, he gives me some information since he knows I'm feeling hopeless."

"Well at least you're here. I've spent the last month and a half with my ignorant parents who tell me I'm too careful each time I ask them to watch their backs," she grumbled, wondering halfheartedly what her mum and dad were doing now. Of course, that only led her back to the point that they weren't actually her parents. "Has living with Malfoy been terrible?" she asked him, wanting to change her focus. Harry stiffened, glaring at the mention of his name alone.

"He stays in his room and hasn't said a word to anyone since he arrived. I suppose that it's not as bad as it could be, but just knowing he's here is frustrating enough." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"He seemed fine last night when he let me in, same old snotty self to me."

"Who would know _you_ would get him to talk? Bravo Mione," he mumbled sarcastically. "Anyway, I don't see why he's even allowed here. It's because of that scum that Bill's… how he is and that Dumbledore- Dumbledore's gone." He closed his eyes and took several calming breaths as she slid out from under the covers and went about preparing for the day.

"Don't hold that against him. Point is he's here now and he's not going anywhere. And we both know Snape killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore himself ordered him to. I hate him and you hate him and Ron hates him, but he's doing his part," she advised softly as Harry lay down on his back on her unmade bed, just staring up at the ceiling.

"I hate Voldemort for doing this to us. My parents are gone, Sirius is gone, and now Dumbledore. I wouldn't be able to take it if I lost you or Ron," he admitted softly. She looked up from her trunk to see a lonely expression on his face, and knew there was more to that sentence.

"Or Ginny," she added for him. He restored his stoic expression and subconsciously raised his hand to flatten his hair, mimicking her common action. "For a minute he looked ready to cave and agree, but he sat up, resting his weight on his elbows.

"No. No, I don't want her to be used against me, I could never live knowing it was my fault," he said sternly as if talking to a child who had stolen his dad's wand. She could see it wasn't her he was trying to convince.

"Sure Harry. Can I meet you downstairs so I can change?" she asked, gesturing to the outfit she had picked out. He nodded and got up, leaving the room with a final wave.

"When will he see he's making things worse?" she asked herself, slipping into a long black peasant skirt. "He needs support and alienating everyone isn't going to help!" But she knew Harry needed to learn that lesson for himself.

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The Order was not upset about her sudden arrival, though that was mainly because most of the order members were absent. Tonks welcomed her eagerly, happy for some female company. She could tell Harry was happy to not be alone as well.

"Hermione?" called Tonks as she washed the dishes, breaking a plate. Hermione joined her by the sink, repairing the dish that lay in shards on the counter.

"Yeah?" Tonks pulled off her purple plastic gloves before pulling out her wand.

"Can you bring this tray up to my surly cousin?" She levitated a tray carrying toast and a glass of water. "He's probably just staring out the window, I think he's charmed it. Well anyway, he won't do anything," she added as Hermione took the tray reluctantly. "Thanks, I've got to go and check on Remus."

"No problem Tonks." Hermione slowly walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, careful not to step on the hem of her billowy skirt. Seeing as her hands were full, she didn't knock on the door to his bedroom, instead calling softly, "Malfoy! Get the door!" She heard no sounds of movement. "Come on, I've got your breakfast here!" A muffled voice answered,

"That you, Granger?"

"Yes, open the door!" There were scuffles from the other side as Hermione tapped her foot. Finally the door swung open to reveal Malfoy once again wearing his hand-me-down bathrobe. In the light of morning she could clearly see he was a mess. There were deep bags under her eyes, which looked blank and hollow. His once perfect hair was dirty and uncombed, and she could see he had a small amount of five o'clock shadow. Underneath his robe he wore a fairly clean pair of sweatpants and an unironed wife beater. She took a step back. The Malfoy she knew _always_ looked sharp and alert.

Realizing she'd been staring at him with her mouth open and that he was pretty much doing the same, she thrust the tray at him.

"Tonks wanted me to bring you this," she mumbled. He nodded and took it, placing it on his unmade bed. She peeked over his shoulder to see more of the room and he didn't stop her, instead going to sit on the window seat. It was obvious that he wanted her to leave but she leant awkwardly against the doorframe.

"I can tell you want something, mudblood. Just say it and leave me in peace," he grumbled sadly, looking out the window he had apparently enchanted to show the view from a window back at Hogwarts. She faltered, tugging at the bottom of her tank top.

"Malfoy, may I ask you a question?" The teenage boy sighed and scooted farther down the seat before leaning back and stretching out across it.

"Come to ask why I let the death eaters into the castle like everyone else?" he snapped, sounding exhausted.

"Don't be silly. I wanted to ask you a question about pureblood history." This was clearly not what he expected, and her jerked his head to the side to give her a searching look.

"Specifics, Granger?" Surprised that he was even listening, she got up the courage to fully enter the room, closing the door behind her. Then Hermione shoved aside articles of random clothing to make room to sit on the bed, while he watched without comment. When she was settled in and her skirt was neatly tucked under her knees, she gulped and asked,

"About Alexander and Cassandra White." Instantly he clutched his left palm to his breastbone, pressing it flat against his skin while sitting back up. A frantic expression blanket his self-confidence and she watched, puzzled, as he looked back and forth between her and the door.

"W-why?" he stammered helplessly.

"Well, since you're a pureblood, I figured you might know more about their location than the school library." He still looked unsure and shook his head.

"N-no. Whites and Malfoy's h-have been enemies for c-centuries. I don't know a-any more than anyone e-else." She raised an eyebrow as he clamped his fist around the neckline of his shirt. "W-why Granger?" She ignored his question.

"Why are you having a panic attack?" He turned away from her to look out the window, watching as the giant squid stretched a tentacle above the water.

"I'm not panicking, I'm just wondering why a mudblood wants to know about such affairs," his voice once again stable. She groaned and leant against the metal footboard.

"Someday Malfoy, I may answer that question." He watched her reflection in the glass, noticing a flicker of black on her left palm while she impatiently pushed back her hair. "So you know nothing of the Whites?"

"No. I suggest you remove yourself from my presence now," he ordered softly, pressing his hand against the glass.

"Whatever Malferret. And you should eat, you look terrible," she added as she stood to leave. He continued to watch her vague outline in the window, not moving an inch towards his breakfast. Hermione gave a sarcastic wave; slow enough for him to clearly see a black W on her palm.

After she left he remembered the second part of the prophecy.

"_Identities changed and brown turns to red. The daughter knows not of power, the son knows not of emotion. As lessons are learned, distance changes. Dragon tamed while dark shadows grow."_

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Confused? Curious? So Malfoy knows, and Hermione is still oblivious. Of course, when is she not oblivious? Keep reviewing, I need them, I crave them. Teaser?

"One day, Malfoy, somebody's going to teach you a lesson. Someday, someone will knock you off your pedestal and when that day comes I'm going to laugh in your face."

Haha, so confused. Toodles! R&R!

Final Word Count: 1826 (Sorry! They get longer!)


	4. The Disappearance of Granger

**A/N: Yay, this chapter is my longest for this story ever! I like it; it was fun to write. Although I must admit, it's not the happiest. Draco and Hermione don't exactly dance through a field of roses holding hands. Not that we would expect them to. **

**Anyway, I'll do complete notes at the end.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize. However, I do own the shoes I'm wearing! Look, they've got really cute buckles and a wedge heel! Well, anyway, I don't own Harry Potter.**

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**Chapter 4: The Disappearance of Granger**

Hermione took over Tonk's job of bringing meals to Malfoy each day, saying it was the least she could do. They exchanged brisk insults each time she provided him food. Although she was the only one he spoke to, he had begun to avoid eye contact with her, the prophecy never far from his mind. Soon she and Harry would return to school, as would he, and he wouldn't have to deal with her.

She wrote a letter to her parents apologizing for her behavior, but saying she would be living the remainder of her summer with Harry at the headquarters. Hermione had expected to get a polite letter in response, with the Grangers saying that they didn't blame her for being upset, but when she opened the envelope at the lunch table, she got quite a shock.

_Hermione-_

_Damn straight you behaved badly, walking out with no warning of where you were headed. Your mother nearly died, she was so upset. You know perfectly well how we feel about your 'other' world; it is dangerous and not suitable for a young woman such as yourself. It's not safe, and neither are those friends of yours, always dragging you into trouble. You don't belong there. So here are your options, come home this instant and leave behind all magic, or stay in your world with your friends and never come home. _

At this point the sharp and pointy print of her father's handwriting turned to that of her mother's slender and precise cursive.

_Look sweetie, I know that must have been a terrible way to find out that you were adopted, but we are still your parents and we still know what's best for you. Come home, Hermione. This seems harsh, but I agree with your father, please, it's now or never. And if your choice is never, do stay safe. We love you, don't let us down._

_Best wishes, Mum and Dad_

No one noticed as she sat in her wooden chair staring blankly at the letter in her hands. Harry was working on last minute summer homework, Remus was reading the paper, and Tonks was busy fixing a meal for Malfoy, so her frozen state went unnoticed.

They didn't want her back as is. She could either never see her foster parents again, or leave behind the world where she most belong, the world hat was _rightfully_ hers, like Malfoy always said. It wasn't an easy choice to make, and yet she was being forced to make it anyway. She couldn't just leave Harry; he needed her. They had to destroy the horcruxes and battle Voldemort together! She couldn't just up and leave the wizarding world! She was the smartest student Hogwarts had seen for five decades!

But she couldn't _not see_ her parents again. They had raised her, they shared a last name. She was their flesh and blood. _No you're not,_ a sardonic voice from the back of her head whispered. _You're a pureblood, with the blood of Merlin running through your veins!_

"Hermione, can you take this up to Prince Draco?" Tonks asked, gesturing to the tray resting on the counter. Hermione stuffed the letter in the pocket of her cargo jeans.

"Of course," she answered softly, taking several deep breaths. Tonks smiled gratefully, sitting down next to Remus at the table, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder lovingly. Hermione looked on jealously as she scooped up the tray. It wasn't that she fancied Remus or anything. She just wished someone cared about her like that. She wanted a boyfriend to look at her like she was the only thing in the world. Hell, she didn't even have a normal family anymore, she was on her own.

She trooped up the stairs, wondering what to do. She couldn't go. So she wouldn't go. They couldn't make her! Granted, she would miss Anne and Michael Granger, but they were _not_ her parents. But they were! They loved her! Then why would they force her into this position? She knocked on Malfoy's door. Reality crashed in on her as she realized Malfoy could no longer torment her. She had a lot in common with him. She was a pureblood, a really powerful, well-respected, wealthy pureblood! It all seemed so big, and so stunning now!

"Malfoy!" she called as she felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, something that was occurring often now. Holding up her tray with one hand, she used the other to dig around in her pocket for her wand, disturbing the letter, which fell to the floor. Gasping for air, she registered that her wand was in her other pocket. The tray slipped from her grasp as she tried to switch hands, the glass goblet shattering as it smashed to the wooden floor. A full blown panic attack swept in as she couldn't breathe, and she fainted just as Malfoy's door swung open. Thanks to his seeker skills, he caught her before she could fall onto the glass shards. He looked down at the girl fallen limp in his arms, completely bewildered.

"Granger?" She was out cold. With no thought of what the consequences, he shifted her and gently threw her over his shoulder, holding her steady with his left arm pushing against her thighs. The open letter by his feet caught his eye and he picked it up as well, before turning around and entering his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then he laid her down on his clear bed on her back and sat down slowly on the squeaky mattress. She shifted slightly, just enough for him to see the letter W on her hand that he had only been lucky enough to catch glimpses of for weeks. The idea of her being a White didn't scare him now; she was "light" after all. It was only the dark he feared. The "light" wouldn't hurt him.

He turned his attention to the letter in his hand. What was so scary that it had lead Gryffindor's little Princess to pass out in his doorway? A quick skim told him everything he needed to know. He looked up at Hermione with a newfound respect. Granger? Adopted? That much he already knew. So the rational tool of the school had ran away from home. Who would have thought she'd have the nerve?

But what if she went home? He hated the girl with a passion, but life without Granger would be abysmal. No one to banter with, no one to treat him normally, no one to actually see him as a human. He didn't really care about her; he had carried her into his room to keep her out of harm's way for completely selfish reasons. She wouldn't leave this world; she knew that she belonged here. He knew he had nothing to fear. So he folded up the letter and calmly slid it into her cargo pocket. Then he pulled out his wand and announced,

"Ennerviate." The girl's eyes opened as if from sleep and she blinked at him. With a note of dry humor, he asked, "How many finger am I holding up?" while waving three fingers before her face. Scowling, se answered,

"Six." He smirked as she groaned, raising her fists to rub her eyes.

"Damn Granger, you're still out."

"Malfoy?" she asked, moving to sit up. He laid a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down, ignoring the look of confusion on her face.

"Who else? Stay down until you've completely come to." She complied, sinking back into the stack of pillows he'd pilfered from the sitting room upon his arrival.

"How'd I get in here?" she questioned as she looked blearily around. Her look of confusion switched to that of suspicion.

"Oh relax. I didn't kidnap you. You collapsed in the doorway and I brought you in here." A twinge of embarrassment worked across her cheeks as he quirked an eyebrow. The action made her feel about the size of a house elf. "What, no 'thank you for saving me from the pile of broken glass'?"

"Um… thanks?" He sighed and held up four fingers.

"Let's try this again. How many fingers am I holding up?" She squinted, before announcing,

"Four." He nodded and settled back to lean against the footboard, not protesting as she sat up.

"May I ask why you fainted in my doorway?" he drawled, knowing she wouldn't just admit her newfound heritage. He was correct.

"The heat overcame me," she lied pitifully, making a show of fanning herself with her hand.

"We live in London, Granger. It's 60 degrees outside." He had to admit he loved watching her struggle for some reason. A smug little voice reminded him only he would work her up. "What ever, I don't care. You should leave before Potty comes to accuse me of abusing you." He waved his wand towards the door and it crept open.

"Harry's not like that," she protested, though she knew it wasn't true. He scoffed.

"Oh please. You are all so worked up that I almost killed your beloved headmaster that he thinks everything that goes wrong here is me," he muttered murderously. "It'll be the same at school. I'll be surprised if I last a week before I'm framed for something."

"Would you like to talk about it," she offered shyly.

"No! Not wit you, not with anyone! Now get out of my room, you idiotic mudblood!" he yelled, pointing viciously at the door behind him. Hermione sprung up, seething at his display.

"I'm not a mudblood, you stupid, arrogant prick! My parents were right. I can't stay here with stubborn, bigoted, wizards who judge things by the color of blood! One day Malfoy, somebody's going to teach you a lesson. Someday someone will knock you off your pedestal and when that day comes, I'm gonna laugh in your face," she hissed, curling her hands into fists. He shrunk backwards on the bed as she added, "goodbye Malfoy, have fun in your little bubble." Then she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

She was packed and ready to leave in ten minutes. The trunk punctuated each step it hit with a dull thunk as she dragged it down the stairs. Determined and angry, she made it straight to the door, not even stopping to say goodbye to her friends in the drawing room. Hermione pushed the heavy door open, and made it halfway out before a strong voice from behind her called,

"You're going to regret leaving." Dropping her trunk, she whirled around to see Malfoy standing in his uniform on the steps, complete with a silver and green tie. He slowly sauntered down the stairs, his face blank of all expression.

"I can't take it anymore!" she yelled back, her face screwed up in unadulterated fury.

"What would your parents say?" he asked calmly, each step he took deliberate.

"They want me home, they know what's right for me!" she wailed, curling her fingers to scratch at the tattoo on her palm. A cheeky smile on Malfoy's face made her take a small step backward, one foot through the open door.

"Not those useless muggles. I meant your real parents. Cassandra and Alexander White." Her jaw dropped to the floor.

"Your palm, my dear. It made it abundantly obvious, especially since I have something remarkably similar." He raised his own left hand, displaying his own mark. She made a strangled gasp, her face losing its color. "It seems you don't know of the prophecy of Sarahbella Trelawney in 1674?" She shook her head, sufficiently freaked out. "She predicted that when the heir of Malfoy and the heiress of White joined, darkness would be defeated. Needless to say, when your parents disappeared, people thought it would not be fulfilled." He flicked back his hair, looking amused, but actually rearing that she would really leave. "My father thought it was a big joke, the daughter of the light and the son of dragons. He named me Draco after the prophecy, mocking the prediction. In my opinion he was just tempting fate." He stopped walking, a few feet left between them. "Of course, it's already started. You know better than to ignore such magic. After all, the mark you're hiding on your palm says there's no avoiding it."

"I don't care about a damn prophecy. I'm leaving," she spat, leaning over to pick up her luggage. He only watched as she left, not even closing the door.

"Talk to you soon!" he yelled as she walked down to the sidewalk before Apparating. He would never see Hermione _Granger_ again.

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**A/N: Ok, do not kill me. That is sooo not the end. And pay attention to the wording of that last sentence, it's important and gives a hint as to what is coming. And please review, I want to reach at least 90 before I update again. This will be my last update before I leave for vacation, so enjoy! Teaser?**

"_Please sir, it's no longer Granger. I have a new name," she admitted, as whispers broke out in the classroom. Malfoy sent her a searching look and she drew strength from his eyes._

**See, I told you this wasn't the end. And Malfoy comes back, full swing. Then the chapter after that, chapter 6, is awesome too. And long. Well what the heck, I'll give you a teaser for that as well since I'm such a nice person.**

"_Oh yes, go snog Malfoy in a broom closet, maybe run your hands through his silky hair, and even help him polish his wand!" Lavender and Parvati yelled in unison across the room._

**Tee hee. I told you that chapter's good. See you later! And review!**

**Final Word Count: 2397**


	5. The Return of Hermione White

**A/N: I'm so glad you liked that last chapter! It was so nice to see I reached my goal of 90 reviews! And I've gotten 100 reviews! But what the hell, I'm 2 away! Squee! And I know I said I wouldn't update until I got back from vacation, but I've managed to pirate my hotel's airport, so I'm taking advantage of it and I'm updating early. That's the product of a week of computer camp, pirated airports. **

**Disclaimer: Harry: Where is she?**

**Draco: -Blinks-**

**Ron: We know you made her leave!**

**Draco: -Blinks-**

**Harry: Why'd she leave?**

**Draco: -Raises eyebrow-**

**So anyway, I don't own Harry Potter, in any dimension.**

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**Chapter 5: The Return of Hermione White**

And talk they did.

Hermione sat at the faux-wooden desk with a highlighter and a calculus textbook. Next to her a girl with badly died blond hair scribbled frantically with her Bick pen, the tip making no noise as it glided across the notebook paper. She thought longingly of her quills and parchment locked in her trunk at home. She'd always hated muggle stationary, but she had no choice but to use it now.

At first calculus had been like arithmancy in some ways, but when she'd started to do her first math assignment on the first day at the muggle high school using a special variables key, she had failed her first ever assignment. She had given up on that theory.

A glance at the clock told her it was 9:30. She wished for the peace of the DADA classroom, and Ron and Harry. It was September 2, they would be betting on how long the new teacher would last. She wished she'd said goodbye. They must have given Malfoy hell, blaming him for her absence. It wasn't completely his fault, not really. He had enough on his plate; he must be cracking under the new pressure.

It started slowly, just a soft whisper calling her name. She looked around for the source of the noise, but everyone in study hall was working dutifully. She returned to her work, but before she could read a sentence, it happened again, just not as soft.

_I know you're listening, White._ It sounded like Malfoy! Once again she surveyed the room, but didn't see any flash of blond. _We missed you on the train yesterday._ Where the hell was that coming from? Inside her head apparently.

_I told you I wasn't coming back,_ she thought, looking down at her textbook.

_And I told you we'd talk again,_ he responded clear as day.

_Malfoy, I'm at school!_ A small sinister chuckle plagued her mind.

_As am I. Slughorn misses you_. She wished she were in the classroom with him now, stirring some fascinating potion and helping Ron when his turned the wrong color. _Longbottom just blew up another cauldron. _She groaned, though none of her fellow students took any notice.

_How are Harry and Ron?_ She asked, giving in to curiosity. She could imagine his sneer already.

_Lonely. Everyone misses you._ There was a small gap of silence as she wondered whether he did.

_Even the Slytherins?_ She thought sarcastically.

_Yes, even the Slytherins. Well, they don't miss you per say, but they still wonder where you've gone. They've been making guesses all day._ She snorted softly. _My favorite is that Potter fooled around with you and that little Weaselett killed you out of jealousy._ A smile timidly made an appearance on her face.

_What did you tell them?_ She asked flirtasously (A/N: Can't spell for my life.), happy to talk to someone from her world. He mumbled something that she didn't catch. _What_?

_They didn't ask. No one talks to me, not even the teachers,_ he admitted quietly. Her smile faded. She knew his situation had to be bad but he was like an outcast! _So when are you coming home, White?_

_Never,_ she told him. _I'm perfectly fine here._

_What about the prophecy? 'Only when the son of Dragons and the daughter of the Light join can the troubles of time be thus solved.' Potter needs you!_ He protested.

_That's a load of bull, Malfoy._

_Then how do you explain the marks?_ She instinctively looked down at her hand.

_I don't know!_

'_White and Black mesh into gray, but light and dark bring peace!'_

_Would you stop?_

'_As lessons are learned, distance changes!'_

_Malfoy!_

'_Stubborn minds of youth are more alike than believed!'_

_Please go away!_

'_When they understand, all will understand!'_

_Honestly, you annoying ass!_

_I miss you, White, please come back!_

"FINE!" She yelled aloud, squeezing her eyes shut. All heads in the classroom turned to glare at her. _All right, I'll come back._

_Good. I'll see you tomorrow, White,_ came his answer. At least he sounded satisfied. _And by the way, you're still head girl. McGonagall refused to accept that you weren't coming home._

_Well I guess that's something to look forward to._

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Malfoy grinned the next morning at breakfast. He sat alone on the edge of the Slytherin table in the great hall nearest to the doors, smirking at the thought of Hermione's predicament. It was guilt that had convinced her to return, but he didn't care. He had been completely honest with her, he did miss her. He had sat on his own on the train and during classes, and he missed her ranting about house elves and cleaning his room. Plus there was a strange difference in the school without her there to boss around prefects and trust her hand up in the air during classes. Everything that he looked at his hand he saw the defining M, and wondered how far away its partner was.

Hogwarts didn't seem safe anymore. The Vanishing Cabinet had long since been destroyed, but it was abundantly obvious that the building was no longer protected. Half of its pupils hadn't returned for another year, and those who remained rattled around through its corridors like ghosts. He was no different, lurking in the shadows at a loss. Crabbe and Goyle had decided to flock Blaise Zambini instead of him, so he was alone with no one to talk to. Not that he did talk. He had not uttered a single word to anyone.

No one noticed as he took his bag and stood up, and still no one saw as he left the crowded hall and moved to stand against the wall by the doors leading out to the grounds in the entrance hall. He didn't know why, but he wanted to see her when she arrived, be there first. It seemed important. However, she didn't show and the bell signifying that the meal was over rang loud. He ignored it, and stood waiting while other teenagers brushed past him. Finally he had a little over the minute and he was forced to abandon his post to run and get to NEWT potions. Malfoy slipped into his desk at the back of the classroom just as the final bell sounded, and he proceeded to mutter under his breath as he worked on his own. Things carried on as normal until about halfway through the class.

"Add the dust of mashed butterfly wings," he whispered as he dropped a gram of the black particles. "Then stir counter-clockwise 3 rotations and let it simmer." When he completed the task he sat down on his stool and watched the door, willing it to simply open. Suddenly, it actually did. The wooden door flew open on its hinges so fast it hit the wall with a large bang, attracting he attention of the whole class, as well as their instructor. A morose looking Hermione started through, clutching her backpack to her chest. Malfoy beamed shamelessly, but faltered when he saw her tearstained face and redlined eyes. She swiped impatiently at her cheeks so that he was the only one who noticed the salty trails down her skin.

"Oh ho!" huffed Professor Slughorn. "Ms Granger has returned, how _are_ you, my dear?" She turned around to smile weakly at the round man, ignoring the stares her presence had given. He wasn't the only one to notice the seemingly innocent new mixed aura of sadness and confidence that she was radiating. Much to his displeasure, he observed Weasley was watching her with a look on his face that could only be described as rapture.

"Please sir, it's no longer Granger. I have a new name," she admitted, as whispers broke out in the classroom. Slughorn raised his eyebrows, as she stood dignified near Malfoy's desk.

"And what would that be Hermione?" She looked quickly to Malfoy for encouragement, drawing strength from his eyes. He nodded, taking a small gulp. Hermione turned back to her teacher, her Mary Janes clacking lightly on the floor.

"It's White, sir. Hermione White." The effect was instantaneous. Gasps echoed in the dungeon and Slughorn looked immediately to Malfoy, who began to pick at his nails casually. She could hear people informing their friends of Merlin and his rumored start of the White line, but she paid no notice.

"Of Cassandra and Alexander White?" inquired the professor shamelessly. She nodded, as more surprised reactions overcame the class. "My dear girl, how did this-,' she cut him off.

"I would rather not go into any details, seeing as I've just had a rather traumatic family issue." He nodded reluctantly as she slipped into a seat next to Malfoy at the desk.

"Well a rose by any other name doth smell as sweet," Slughorn observed with a nervous laugh before returning to his paperwork. Malfoy leant closer to the girl next to him and whispered,

"What's with the public name change?" She blushed, trying to ignore their close proximity.

"I'm not a Granger anymore. My parents kicked me out when I informed them of my return." Now it was his turn to lose the hinges in his jaw.

"No way!" She chuckled softly.

"I'm homeless," she joked sadly, opening her left palm to look at the W on her left hand.

"You do know that now you're screwed. This publicly shows that you're powerful and someone's bound to bring up the prophecy," he whispered, his nose brushing one of her stray curls as she tried to speak in her ear.

"Better sooner than later, right?" Malfoy turned back to his cauldron in time to see his potion bubble over the rim. The frothy potion spilled onto the floor and Hermione yelped in alarm, falling backward off her stool and grabbing the back of his robes. He tumbled down with her and they landed in the puddle of light purple potion. After looking completely confused for a second, she began to laugh. An infectious laugh, with her cheeks turning pink and nose scrunching up. Before he even knew it, he was laughing too. He helped her up and she magicked up the mess before sitting back down. They continued laughing the rest of class. Each time the laughter would die out, one look at the other would start them laughing again. Eventually they forgot what was so funny, but it just didn't matter.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**A/N: Tee hee. She's baaaaaack! Haha. I can't think of anything else to say, since it's 12 minutes till midnight and I'm completely exhausted. Teaser?**

_She opened her eyes as he took her hand gently. "White, may I have this dance?" _

"_But of course, if you can keep up."_

"_I don't think I'm the one who needs to worry."_

**Haha, chapter 6 rules! That sounds so random, I know. But it's really cool. I must go solve my writer's block now… Ugg, need caffeine. Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 1957 (The next one is much longer, I promise!)**


	6. To Be Considered Beautiful

**A/N: I've only just posted the fifth chapter, so I don't really have anything to say. Anyway, this chapter is long. You'd better be happy. It's good too. The next one rocks as well. In it the little _romance_ tab kicks in. –Insert smug laugh- I'm just stalling time here, as I'm sure you all know. La. La. La. I'll just start, ok? Does that sound good? Want a cookie?**

**And also, I'm leaving on a school trip on Tuesday and I won't be back until Friday, so I won't update for a while, but the next chapter is worth the wait. It's the longest chapter so far!**

**WARNING: There is dancing in this chapter. I know nothing about dancing, so just bare with my crappy descriptions and imagine what ever you want to. This applies for the next chapter as well.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you may recognize in this story. I also have no ideas left for creative dialogue disclaimers. My apologies. **

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**Chapter 6: To Be Considered Beautiful**

After potions she parted ways with Malfoy. They had other classes together, it was true, but Harry and Ron kidnapped Hermione and the trio spent the rest of the day together. She told them a very revised story of her adoption and disappearance, not mentioning Malfoy or the prophecy once. Most questions from the guys were easy to deflect; it was later when she sat in her bedroom with Parvati and Lavender that she had trouble answering.

"So what's up with you and Malfoy?" Parvati asked shamelessly from her position at Hermione's desk. Hermione continued packing her clothes in her dresser, trying not to blush. "He was totally flirting with you during potions!" Lavender giggled in agreement as she read a magazine on the queen sized bed that came with the head girl room.

"Hardly, he just made me laugh," Hermione answered while folding a T-shirt. "He's just been really cool about this pureblood nonsense, didn't make any nasty comments for once," she added. Parvati snorted.

"Yes, and all it took was powerful lineage."

"Even though he's all creepy and scary with his whole death eater thing, he's still my pick for the hottest guy at Hogwarts," Lavender observed. Hermione sighed disdainfully as Parvati sent her friend a scandalous look. "Oh don't pretend you weren't thinking it, Parv."

"Sorry, but I don't lust after guys who have their futures carved in stone!" she fired back quickly.

"Oh yeah? What about Harry? I see you staring at him during classes! You were totally considering that red hair dye in Diagon Alley the other day!" They bickered back and forth as Hermione went about organizing her new room. She stopped abruptly, however, when the voice started again.

_Hey White?_ She dropped the skirt she'd been holding unceremoniously on the floor.

"What?" she hissed quietly, looking around the room. Lavender and Parvati looked up, watching amused as she began to rub her temples.

_How's it going?_ He responded devilishly.

"I have guests," she whispered violently back, placing her hands on the top of the dresser to lean on them. The other two Gryffindor girls exchanged matching curious smiles.

_Well, get rid of them and talk to me,_ Malfoy replied cheekily. She could almost feel him wink.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" Lavender asked. Hermione grumbled under her breath as she walked over to an armchair, resting her head in her hands.

"Malfoy won't get out of my head," she told them. They cooed.

"That's so cute!" exclaimed Parvati as she stood up. "How long have you fancied him?" Hermione looked up in alarm to see them grinning at her.

"That's not was I-," she started, but they both ran over to her closet and began rummaging through it, messing up all the work she'd done to organize it. "What on earth are you doing?"

"By the time we're done with you he'll be at you feet!" the blond yelled.'

"We knew you weren't meant for Ron," idiot number two added, chucking several skirts at the bed. Hermione took advantage of the distraction to yell at the boy still humming arrogantly in her ear.

"Now they think I _fancy_ you! I'm never going to hear the end of this!"

_Oh come on, White. What harm can two Gryffs do? Anyway, I wanted to ask you something._ She watched as the teenagers talked about her best features.

"I'll meet you somewhere, I've got to get away from these two.

_I'll see you in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes._ She stood up and grabbed her uniform robe off her bed from under the mound of clothes the girls had piled above it.

"Where are you going?" Lavender asked, poking her head out of the closet. Not in the mood to lie, she answered quietly,

"I've got to meet Malfoy." Lavender beamed, pulling Parvati out of the closet as she followed Hermione out from the head girl's room.

"Oh yes, go and snog him in a broom closet," one of them called as she trudged down the stairs and into the common room.

"Run your hands through his silky hair," the other added. She ignored them.

"And maybe even help him polish his wand," they yelled across the room. All eyes, including Ron and Harry's, flew to her as she turned bright red. Slowly she rotated on her heel to face the giggling Lavender and Parvati, eyes blazing. They were leaning on each other for support, over come with laughter. After taking several deep breaths, she yelled,

"I do **not** fancy Draco Malfoy!" They laughed even harder, tears of mirth now sprouting from their eyes. She glowered at them and stomped off, throwing herself through the portrait hole. "_Why_ would I fancy _Malfoy_? Polish his wand my arse," she grumbled as she picked herself off the floor after landing on her bum.

"And what a cute arse it is," someone observed, extending a hand. She took it and came face to face with a smirking Malfoy. "I wanted to come and get you in case you didn't know where to room of requirement was." They walked slowly side by side in the direction of the tapestry.

"They all think I fancy you," she mumbled, slightly on edge around the Slytherin. He snickered.

"So I heard. Feel free to run your hands through my silky hair at your convenience." She groaned, dragging her feet. "I told you that prophecy would give us issues and that's only the start. Apparently Slughorn knows of its contence and has taken it upon himself to set us up," he added smugly, loosening his tie. "He held me back today after dinner to ask me something."

"And what would that be?" she asked fearfully. Slughorn was famous for sticking his nose where it didn't belong, and when he did anything, he always did it to the extreme.

"Well you know how he always has his start of term Slug Club meeting?" She nodded. "He's turned it into a dressy party with ballroom dancing or something like that. He asked me to ask you to be my date, three guesses why." They passed a younger Hufflepuff, who cowered against the wall, eyes wide as he stared at Malfoy. He ignored him.

"Are you asking me, or are you being sarcastic?" she responded curtly, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Whatever you like, White, although if you were my date it would give you more time to polish my wand," he said, his face stoic. As soon as he saw her own red face, he cracked up. "Sorry, I just had to say that. That's just such a false image." He snickered even as he paced back and forth before the entrance.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked stubbornly. He raised his eyebrows as she placed her hands on her hips. It only took her a couple seconds to realize what she had said. "Let's just pretend I didn't say anything." He nodded and grabbed the doorknob that had appeared behind her. When they entered, he seemed indifferent to the room, but she gasped in awe. It was now a large ballroom with windows all along the walls and a great glass dome above it for a roof. She twirled around to take it all in as he walked over to a piano that sat on the far side of the hall. Hermione closed her eyes peacefully as a waltz began to echo through the room. Malfoy watched as she began to smile wistfully, and walked closer to her. She opened her eyes as he took her hand gently.

"Can you dance?" he asked carefully, his eyes searching. She nodded, caught up in the song and the want to be near someone, to dance in the giant ballroom. He seemed to understand and asked, "White, may I have this dance?"

"But of course, Malfoy, if you can keep up." He grinned cheekily before moving one hand to the small of her back and the other higher in the air, where her fingers met his.

"I don't think I'm the one who needs to worry," he drawled, before whirling her around and sweeping her into the waltz. They soon found neither of them needed to worry, and they could easily read each other's movements, quickly traveling all across the floor. Gradually the song became faster and more modern, but they didn't stop, neither wanting to stop first. He spun her closer, then away, occasionally dipping her over his knee, thoroughly enjoying himself. No matter what move he made, she matched it, never missing a beat. She was _good_. And Hermione? Concentrated and determined, she ignored the fact that they were alone and just wearing their uniforms, instead of at a lavish party or wearing dress robes. Although no one would have guessed, she loved dancing, and she loved a good partner. Her aunt owned a dance studio and had taught Hermione all she knew, saying one day she'd need it. And she had.

They could feel that the song was almost over, and when the notes reached a climax, he quickly spun her out, and then pulled her in with more force than necessary. When the final key was played, her back pushed lightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. They stood in silence, catching their breath. Malfoy's shirt clung to his back from sweat, but he didn't really care. Finally he said,

"Well, Slughorn has nothing to worry about." She snorted softly, pulling herself out of his arms. In response to her bemused expression, he added, "He wanted to be sure you're presentable at his party. He's inviting all of groupies, wants to show you off." She sat down on the wooden floor with a sigh. He lowered himself to sit on his knees.

"I saw that coming a mile off," she grumbled, staring into his walled eyes.

"White, you'd be the gem of his collection, you can't exactly blame him. You're the lost heir of White," he started, marking each phrase off by peeling back a finger from his fist. "You're rich, powerful, talented, annoyingly smart, and considered beautiful." She raised her eyebrows and he rushed to add, "By some boys at least." The girl in question snickered, surprising him.

"To be considered beautiful, my greatest ambition," she observed sarcastically. "I won't stop until I'm considered beautiful by all!" She punctuated this by waving an arm dramatically over her head. Malfoy found her quite liked this new Hermione. He didn't know why, but he found it hard to hate her now that he knew she wasn't muggleborn. And she could keep up with him in a dance; that was rare. She was pretty, he couldn't argue against that point. She'd grown into her face more, and though her hair was still bushy, it relaxed just a tad, making it seem longer instead of wide.

"I'm sure there are very few people who you've got left to convince," he admitted, his voice sounding tired and honest. It surprised even him. She shrugged, watching him as he glared at the floor.

"Why me, Malfoy?" she asked quietly, her voice gentle. "Ignore the prophecy, ignore bloodlines. Why is it that I'm the only one you talk to?" He didn't want to answer, so instead he lay down on his back on the floor, staring up at the sky through the glass dome. She huffed and shuffled on her knees to sit next to his head. "I'm not going to broadcast it, I just want to know, why the change of heart?" He looked blankly at the ceiling before answering.

"Everyone changed. Potter changed, Snape changed, my friends changed. You didn't. Sure, you're nicer now, but you don't treat me like I'm going to kill you any second." He sighed. "I just wanted something normal, something familiar. You gave it to me and I took it." He searched for more words as she lay back next to him, not to close since she didn't want to scare him. "I just find it hard to hate you now. You're not a mudblood anymore, you're the girl I'm supposed to 'join' with and it just takes so much energy to try and convince myself you're the enemy. Does that make any sense?"

"Sure it does." He groaned and sat up, mumbling,

"I'm going soft." She laughed.

"You're not going soft, you're just growing up," Hermione told him, playfully knocking her shoulder into his. "Look Malfoy, you don't have to keep up this front. I know its very unSlytherinish and everything, but maybe if you admitted that you're sorry for what-,"

"Don't you get it, White?" he snapped, jerking his head sideways. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't care what people think, because no matter what I do, they're still going to think I'm a pureblood fanatic death eater! It's like my whole life has been plotted already, first with my parents and following in my father's footsteps, and now it's with this damn prophecy!" She watched fearfully as he stood up, his hands balled into fists. "I can't just apologize, because I can't change my life! There _is_ no way out! Don't ask me to apologize, because I can't. You-Know-Who is after me for leaving him, the school hates me, and I'm stuck this way!" When she was sure his little rant was finished, she stood up, her face only inches away from his.

"You think you don't have a choice? You _always_ have a choice. You _chose_ whether you want to fulfill the prophecy or not, it's not the other way around. Harry went through this as well, so don't pull the 'no one understands me' thing." Malfoy moved to storm out, but she grabbed his shoulder. "Don't walk away from me, I'm not finished! That prophecy involves two people, not just you. I'm part of this as well, and I'm upset too! But didn't you listen to the prophecy? Only when we "join" can the troubles of time be thus solved! That's Voldemort! We have to do this!" He scowled at her, giving her the urge to grab his shoulders and shake him back and forth.

"What do you want me to _do_, White? Seduce you and then go and try to Avada Voldemort?" he hissed, moving forward so that as he leaned over the tip of his tie brushed her collar. The proximity didn't faze him, but it unnerved her. "Do you think if I kissed you he would just spontaneously combust? False love won't fool magic, and seeing as I care _nothing about you_, it looks like we're stuck with the 'troubles of time.'" Hermione blinked at him, a frown on her lips.

"Nothing?" she repeated quietly, feeling hurt but not knowing why.

"Nothing," he said, before leaning down and kissing her, catching both of them by surprise. At first she was so stunned that she didn't move, but as his hand moved to her hip, she instantly snapped back to reality. However, instead of pushing him away, she slid her heads around his neck, clasping her fingers together, to pull him closer. For some strange reason he reacted positively, enjoying having her soft fingers brush against his skin. Malfoy ran his tongue across her lower lip, asking for entrance. She welcomed him, her own tongue meeting his. He shocked himself by wanting to kiss a trail down her neck, before realizing this was Hermione White he was kissing. He removed his hands from her side to clutch her wrists and pull her hands off his neck, and then push her away from him. She stumbled backwards, looking confused and flustered. Making sure his face stayed blank, he hissed,

"Nothing," before turning to leave. She panted quietly as he opened the door. Finally she called out as he set a foot through the doorway,

"I reject your accompaniment to Slughorn's party." He didn't turn to look at her, but froze. _Him_? _Rejected_? By _White_? "Talk to me when you can be realistic." He left the room.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

It was a known fact that Malfoys were incredible liars. This was certainly true for the young Draco Malfoy, who had successfully convinced himself that he had felt nothing when he had kissed the amazing Hermione White. However, though he thought he had felt nothing in the part of his brain that actually listened to his inner ramblings, underneath he knew he had. The feel of having her hands clinging to his neck lingered unwanted in his mind.

Of course it was also hard to admit that he was disappointed she wouldn't be his date to Slughorn's party. But he could always steal her away for a dance, she couldn't refuse. He knew it was rare to find the perfect dance partner. And he _was_ her perfect dance partner. And yet, _nothing_, he reminded himself. _Nothing_.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**A/N: Good enough? Long enough? I wrote that make out scene during my science class. My teacher stopped her lecture about pH testing and solubility to ask what I found so funny. Let's just say that wasn't an easy question to answer… Anyway, next chapter Lavender and Parvati become even more annoying, the Weasley twins continue to stir up trouble, Hermione offends the minister of magic, and Malfoy continues being Malfoy. Want and actual teaser?**

"_Nothing's holding you back except fear," he whispered to her smugly._

"_I'm not afraid of anything."_

"_Prove it."_

**Well, I better go and struggle through Magnetic Attraction. I have a huge amount of writers block. See you all later! Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 3110 (That's more like it, right?)**


	7. Showing Off

**A/N: Ok, I must admit that I'm typing this before I've even updated chapter 6, because I am very bored and I have a cold. Thus, I have nothing else to do. Please don't laugh. Anyway, this chapter is long. I think it's longer than the last one! Oh, and I must brag about reaching 150 reviews. That's just too cool!**

**Warning: As I said the last chapter, I know nothing about dancing, so my descriptions kind of suck. Sorry! And also, most writers would have taken more time to describe Hermione's dress, but I find clothing descriptions annoying and I didn't want to slow the story down.**

**Disclaimer: Lucius Malfoy is nice, Vincent Crabbe is dead sexy, Ron has a pet spider, Harry thinks of Ginny as a friend, Hermione hates to read, Voldemort just needs a hug, and I own Harry Potter. Get the message?**

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**Chapter 7: Showing Off**

As soon as Hermione crawled through the portrait hole, Lavender and Parvati appeared instantly by her side. One of them pulled on her sleeve, while the other circled her.

"Oh, she's all sweaty," Lavender remarked in her peppy tone. Hermione grimaced, looking around the room for Harry and Ron. They were by the fireplace with a cluster of older students, laughing raucously at something two tall red heads had said. _My god, is that Fred and George?_

"And her hair's all rumpled," squealed Parvati. Hermione fidgeted. "And her lips are swollen! My goodness Hermione, what did you and Malfoy get up to?" They giggled as she raised a hand to cover her lips.

"Go on, give us all the dirty details!" Lavender added. Fortunately before she could answer, George (or was it Fred?) stood up and yelled,

"Hey everyone! The Princess has arrived!" He grinned as she blushed, all eyes turning to look at her. "Come on Hermione, join us!" Happy to get away from the Barbie twins, she quickly rushed over to sit on the couch next to Ron. The Weasley twins mock bowed to her, before settling into armchairs across from her. "So word on the street is that you're a White?" She nodded, wondering where this was headed.

"Well, that makes you pureblood royalty," said Fred with a devious smile. Ron and Harry looked ready to crack up, their mouths turning to thin lines as they tried to restrain their impending laughter.

"I wouldn't say that," she said anxiously as Fred leant over to pull a box out from under his chair.

"Nonsense Hermione."

"You are a royal,"

"A Princess if you will,"

"And what is a Princess,"

"Without a crown?" they finished together, as Fred opened the box to reveal a gold crown with small peaks, that each had 'WWW' at the tip. Ron and Harry openly laughed at the stunned expression on her face, as George took the crown and lowered it onto her head so that she could no longer see it. The headpiece was small, no more than three inches tall including the spikes, but the small rhinestones inlaid in the border made it flashy, attracting the attention of most of the common room. She raised a hand to pull it off and get a closer look, but it didn't move. She used both hands to try and pry it off, but it seemed stuck to her head. The boys laughed harder as Fred and George beamed.

"Sticking charm, won't come off for a day," Fred told her as an explanation. Her eyes widened as he smugly leant onto the back legs of his chair, in unison with George.

"You have got to be kidding me," she exclaimed. They shook their heads. "I don't want to be your walking billboard for a day!" She groaned in frustration as George turned to face his twin.

"Should we announce our new product to the little Gryffies, Fred?" They both stood up and dragged her out of her chair.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, trying to escape from their grasp, but it was too late.

"Hello everyone!" Fred bellowed, waving happily to the house. They waved back. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would like to let you lucky people be the first to see our new product! Nonremovable hats!" He gestured to the very pissed off Hermione as if she were a prize on a muggle game show, who had stopped struggling from George's grasp.

"They come in crowns, bonnets, ten gallon cowboy hats, top hats, spitting hats, and any color imaginable! Want to write a message on it? Personalization is available at no extra cost!" The students all got up and circled around hem, enjoying listening to their sales pitch. George picked up where Fred had left off.

"They won't come off until they reach the time you decide, the perfect prank for anyone stupid to put them on in the first place!" The crowd laughed as Hermione glared furiously at the twins simultaneously. "Wouldn't you all like to see McGonagall in a pink, glitter-spitting hat?" They all cheered. "These hats will be available for purchasing at the price of four galleons each at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stores, coming soon to Hogsmeade." He finished up as Ron and Harry patted her on the back.

"Cheer up Mione, it's really cool!" Ron said, raising a hand to finger one of the spikes. She slapped it away.

"Cool Ron? People are going to think I chose to wear this, that I think I'm royalty because of my parents." Harry shook his head, though he was still smirking.

"No they won't, you're not Malfoy or anything." At the mention of the blond she raised her hand to cover her swollen lips.

"No, I'm not a Malferret," she answered curtly. Ron suddenly burst out laughing, and both her and Harry turned to face him. "What is it now Ron?"

"Ha ha, funny, ha, image. Malfoy, ha, in a skirt!" She rolled her eyes.

"What would it be like if Ronald was the Minister of Magic?" she asked Harry with a small smile. Harry cleared his throat.

"Um, Ron? Why don't you go catch up with your brothers? I need to speak to Hermione." Ron, who was still laughing, stumbled over to the twins, who were trying to talk Ginny into wearing a baby bonnet. Hermione looked at Harry expectantly to see he was staring at his exgirlfriend. She poked him on the shoulder, chuckling at the look of longing on his face.

"Harry?" He was jerked out of his stupor and looked at her as if confused by her presence. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Oh right." He looked down at his shoes, his rumpled hair falling into his eyes. She waited patiently. "I wanted to ask you a favor."

"Ask away," she encouraged. The boy began to fidget uneasily.

"Well, I was wondering if you would be my date to Slughorn's party? It would be purely platonic, I just don't want to show up alone, what with Ginny going and all." He stared over her shoulder at Ginny, obviously wishing he were still with her. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder and said,

"Of course I'll go with you, but you know how I feel about you and Ginny." He shook his head morosely.

"Don't start Hermione. Anyway, hopefully Slughorn won't try to monopolize us the entire party if we're together." _And hopefully Malfoy will back off as well,_ thought Hermione. "I'd better start that charms essay," he admitted, and she gave him a scandalized look.

"Harry, it's ten thirty! That's due tomorrow!" He shrugged.

"Yeah well, what can you do? Good night Hermione." She nodded and he ventured back to the Weasleys, keeping both twins between him and Ginny. Sighing, she turned and walked back up the steps to her dorm room.

She had nothing to look forward to. Slughorn's party would be awful, because the pompous host would no doubt push her to Malfoy the whole night. Harry would be miserable without Ginny, and Ron would be pissed that he was being left out. Not to mention, she was struck wearing a bloody _crown_. And that she had just made out with her enemy. Or that her parents kicked her out. So much for royalty.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Malfoy was in a foul mood. He stayed as far away from Hermione as possible and did his best not to look in her direction once. Of course, the shiny crown glittering on her head certainly made it hard. The story of the Weasley twin's prank had been discussed during breakfast at the Slytherin table the following morning, and he had managed to over hear the story. There really was no other way Hermione would wear a crown willingly, that Malfoy knew as fact, and it was inevitable that she would ask all of her teachers for help getting it off. However, it remained perched atop her head the entire day.

She didn't look at him once either. During classes she made sure that he was on the opposite side of the room, and in both lunch and breakfast she made sure she was on the far side of the hall. During potions he watched her, waiting for her to cave and look up at him, but she didn't. Hermione sat chattering with Potter and Weasley, every once and a while glaring up at her crown, but not once did she so much as glance in his direction. Malfoy worked on his blood-replenishing solution alone, ignoring Professor Slughorn's not so subtle glances in his direction.

"Talk to me when you can be realistic," she'd told him, straight faced and narrowed eyed. He was _always_ realistic. Yet ever since she'd kissed him, he didn't want to be realistic. He wanted to jump on the tabled and beg for forgiveness, he wanted to yell and scream and kiss her even more passionately than he had before. Parents be damned, obligations be screwed, he didn't want reality. _Look at her, all smug,_ he thought as he stirred his potion. _Carrying on without a care in the world._ He'd get his revenge; no one messes with the mind of a Malfoy and gets away with it.

The class bell rang, and he slowly ladled a portion of the deep green liquid from his cauldron and into a flask. Hermione walked past him without a second glance as he sorted his books and stoppered his bottle. Her cloak swirled around her feet as she was forced to double back and help Weasley with his potion, which had cemented into a rock at the bottom of his cauldron. Malfoy dillydallied, fumbling with the clasp of his book-bag, so as to watch her. He could still remember the feeling of delirium she had given him as he whirled her around on the dance floor, aware of every step she took and ever time the edge of her robe fanned against his legs. It had never seemed logical to Malfoy that one could get such emotions from dancing, as a boy he had never believed his mother's fairy tales of closeness and coordination. Yet Hermione White was teaching him things whether she knew it or not.

The male portion of the trip glared at him as they stalked past, but she only looked forward, her face stoic. He closed his bag and moved to follow them out the door but-

"Mr. Malfoy, may I speak to you for a moment?" Blast, he was the only student left in the classroom. He slowly turned to face Professor Slughorn, not saying a word. The man stood up from behind his desk, his enormous belly pushing the desk forward as he came out from behind it. "I was wondering if you could give me an update on how things are going with Ms. White." Malfoy got a sick sense of satisfaction from watching Slughorn wait for him to speak. Instead of saying anything, the teenager merely shrugged, choosing not to confide his kiss to his least favorite teacher. "Well, is she going as your date to my celebration tomorrow night?" Slowly he shook his head no, keeping his face blank. Slughorn struggled to harness a scowl.

_Ha ha, keep your nose out of my business_, Malfoy thought bitterly.

"Did you ask her?" Malfoy blinked, staring disinterested at the ceiling. "Very well Mr. Malfoy, you may go." As Malfoy left the room silently smirking, Slughorn let out a very undignified profanity.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The Room of Requirement didn't fail Hermione. When she opened the door cautiously, wanting the perfect dress for Slughorn's party, she was greeted by a closet, in which hung a single black dress. It was excellent, with short cap sleeves, and a simple circle skirt. It was understated but sophisticated, and when she put it on back in her bedroom, she found it was already fitted perfectly to her body. Like a thrilled little girl, she spun around and the skirt fanned out around her. Hermione appreciated simple things and didn't go for attention. She preferred to draw attention without trying, and was sure this dress would do just the thing.

Friday classes flew by in that special way time does, and she found each second slip through her hands like a grain of sand. It wasn't as though Slughorn's party would be torture; it was only that she didn't want to face Malfoy. She skirted around his name in conversation, trying no to remember the heat of their dance, the sizzle she felt with every spin he led her into, and the friction between them as they had finished. No doubt he would ask her for another dance and guilt her into it so she couldn't refuse. It was something he would do.

She found Harry standing morose in the corner of the common room, watching as Ginny greeted her date, Colin Creevy, by the portrait hole. Ginny looked exquisite as usual in ornate dress robes of light blue that had spirals stitched into the seems. Her hair fell gracefully around her face, making Harry burn with jealousy for the sixth year boy. Hermione leant against the wall beside him and looked on as Ginny left. It was obvious that he missed her.

"You're miserable Harry," she said quietly, nudging him with her shoulder. He scoffed and looked down at the floor, his hair falling into his eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, Mione," he responded, but she shook her head.

"She misses you too, Harry. Just tell her you still have feelings fore her." He offered her the crook of his arm, which she slid hers through.

"Don't start. Just- just don't." She sighed but let him drop the subject. There really was no point arguing with him. But all the same, she really felt sorry for him. He never got to choose his path, everything was preset for him. Plus he had to go through with it all on his own.

She was beginning to relate, but at least she wasn't alone in her prophecy, Malfoy was involved too. But was that a good thing or a bad thing? She wasn't sure. He was such a puzzle, a mute to most except for her, an amazing dancer, and a –cough cough- brilliant kisser. What an enigma. Hermione wanted answers.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice that they had reached the door to Slughorn's office until Harry stopped to take a last deep breath. He hated parties and had been antisocial for a good year since Sirius had died. It didn't help that Slughorn displayed him like a show dog to his friends.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, squeezing his arm. He nodded, bracing himself for the unwanted attention. She schooled her expression into that of pleasant politeness before pushing open the door.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The youngest Malfoy had been to many formal gatherings in his life. Even as little as four he'd been expected to attend his father's cocktail parties and stand quietly along the wall. So now as a teenager he did the same, staying in a corner opposite the door so he could watch the guests arrive. Rising his goblet to his lips, he stared around uninterested at the decorations for the party. The tent-like canopy hanging from the ceiling and attached loosely to the walls was back, magicked a shiny blue and brown to replace the Christmas colors. Scattered among the guests were the normal house elves and their trays. They seemed to be avoiding him, as were the guests. He honestly didn't care. Neither did he care about the somewhat famous attendants, including an annoyed looking Rufus Scrimagore, whom Slughorn seemed to have dragged there. The reason why became obvious as the door opened to reveal Potter and White, both dressed in black.

Malfoy came very close to dropping his goblet upon seeing Hermione, looking stunning in a most flattering and yet classy muggle dress. Regaining his composure, he watched as the professor, who had toed the minister along with him, immediately attacked them. Curious as to what would follow, and eager to gawk at Hermione, he slunk through the crowd and found a new corner closer to them to inhabit.

"Minister, you remember Mr. Potter, don't you?" Slughorn asked with a proud grin, signifying he had just won the lottery. Apparently Scrimagore did, though he shook Harry's had reluctantly, wearing the same scowl as the teenager.

"Yes I do. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what have you been doing lately to help the war effort as the Chosen One, if I may ask?" the minister asked shamelessly, effectively hijacking the conversation from Slughorn. Malfoy's jaw dropped, but Potter seemed to be anticipating the question.

"I've been doing research upon a subject I'm not allowed to disclose, sir. There are other ways to help than just being a poster boy for the ministry and giving the public false hope," he bit back, as Malfoy's jaw sunk even further to the floor. Slughorn pouted, then attempted to regain control of the conversation.

"Minister, this is the young la-," he started, but Scrimagore jumped back in, thinking of a comeback.

"You would think false hope is better than none." Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione laid a hand on his arm, silencing him effectively. Of courser, she joined in the conversation and took his place.

"If you give the public false hope, that only increases the chance of inducing mass hysteria. Already we have parents pulling their kids out of school and moving to America. Muggles still don't know a thing. The public has a right to know exactly what is going on," she said calmly with a bit of a cold edge to her voice. Scrimagore turned his attention to her as Malfoy admired her calm response. 

"What would you know about politics, miss?" he hissed, raising his eyebrows as if to say, 'Give me your best shot. Go on, I dare you.'

"I've fought along side Harry on multiple occasions, including at the Ministry of Magic last year. As for politics, I believe my parents used to be very involved before they disappeared over a decade ago." Slughorn, seeing the conversation was starting to turn in the direction he'd wanted to in the first place, jumped in, mustache quivering with pleasure.

"Yes, the White's were very influential. Rufus Scrimagore, meet Hermione White." Hermione extended a hand politely, still holding a stern expression. He shook it politely. "Ms. White is the best student in her year." The minister looked her over appraisingly as Hermione stiffened. Malfoy could relate to her nerves.

"_This_ is the girl you were talking of?" Slughorn nodded, beaming with pride. "The White heiress? You could go far in the ministry with that name, girl." Malfoy rolled his eyes; he'd heard that line before.

"It's a pity that I don't intend on going into the ministry, then," she answered curtly, finding Harry's hand with her own for support. Scrimagore understood what the gesture showed without her voicing it. Slughorn snorted in protest.

"Ms. White, you could affect the world! Have huge power! Doesn't that interest you?" She shook her head.

"What interests me is helping Harry. You, the ministry that is, are not helping Harry, so why would I want to work there?" Slughorn floundered like a fish out of water while Scrimagore clenched his jaw. Harry turned to stare at his date in amazement and awe, for it wasn't often that Hermione was so brutally honest. Malfoy smirked, that was his Hermione. Wait, his Hermione? "Now if you will excuse me, I would like to dance with my date." With that she dragged Harry onto the make shift dance floor. Harry obediently placed one hand on her waist and his other laced into hers as she waited for the next song to start, yet to notice a certain blonde's constant unwavering stare. As the music started in a slow waltz she moved expertly, leading Harry. Needless to say, he still couldn't dance.

"You just made yourself number one on his hit list, Hermione," Harry told her softly as they danced slowly. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"I already have power just because of my lineage, I don't need anymore. I don't care about the ministry." She set him up so he could spin her, but he didn't twirl her. She sighed as she felt eyes on the back of her head finally.

"I suppose I can't tell you to stop making enemies, seeing as he hates me too," Harry advised as he stepped on her foot. As she winced he added, "Sorry." Hermione nudged him into the pattern.

"No problem." It wasn't like he was a terrible dancer; he just wasn't as good as Malfoy. And once you have the best, you can't settle for less, was that the saying? Well anyway. At least Malfoy had concentrated on the dance. Harry was staring over her shoulder at Ginny. Hermione pivoted slowly so that he could dip her over his knee, but he didn't notice, just continued to stepping from foot to foot. As she grumbled in frustration, _it_ came back.

_He could have dipped you there_, Malfoy whispered into her mind, even though he wasn't within ten feet of her. She tried to ignore him, but when Harry fumbled another spin, he added, and _shouldn't he have turned you there?_ She didn't respond, focusing on her feet. _Look up from her feet._ She snapped her head back up, almost hitting Harry's chin. He stepped on her foot again. _That must have hurt_. As the song wound down Malfoy continued to make quiet comments inside her head. She was grateful when it ended.

"Do you think I could go ask Ginny for a dance?" Harry asked, his voice racked with nerves.

"Yes Harry, don't be so afraid." He glared at her weakly before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and bounding over to ask the red head to dance. Grateful for the downtime away from Harry and his two left feet, Hermione skimmed through the groups of people to a house elf, who offered her a glad of cider in a goblet. She took it with a bob of her head in thanks, before leaning against the wall. Not many people were dancing; it was mainly the students of the Slug Club and their dates on the floor, so there was no one remarkably skilled to watch. She began to zone out and idly watch Ginny awkwardly dance with Harry.

"Ironic color," someone observed from her left. She looked to see Malfoy leaning his back against the wall beside her, his shoulder a few inches from hers. He was also watching the party, not looking at her.

"What do you mean?" she responded, her voice gentle. He shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"You're a White and yet you wear black. It's not what most would expect." She saw his point but didn't agree.

"I don't want to flaunt my name, and I don't want to be what others expect."

"I didn't expect that you would want to be." She laughed slightly, swirling her drink around in her cup. He leant his head against the wall and closed her eyes as she noticed how tired he looked.

"You aren't eating," she remarked softly. He nodded, his face looking gaunt in the shadows of the corner and the tent canopy. "Why aren't you eating? You'll get sick!"

"I'm simply not hungry anymore," he answered briskly.

"And you don't talk!"

"There's no one else to talk to." They stood in silence until a new song came on, with a fast beat, perfect for them. She knew he would ask even before he did. "I doubt Slughorn will let me leave until I dance with you." An unasked offer.

"I don't know, Malfoy," she said, uncertain. Part of her really wanted to dance with the one person who was as good as she was, if not better. The other part was reciting what he'd said to her in the Room of Requirement, _nothing. Nothing. Nothing._ He raised an eyebrow as if listening to her inner monologue.

"That dress you're wearing deserves a dance with a worthy partner, White. Don't you want to show our dear minister that you're more than just an opinionated, know it all heiress?" She stiffened as he began to smirk. "Nothing's holding you back except fear." That convinced her.

"I'm not afraid of anything." Then he said the only thing he could have:

"Prove it." Annoyed and determined, she grabbed his glass and put it on a passing tray before reaching for his hand. The guests watched, amused, as Hermione pulled the blond through them, parting them like the Red Sea. Malfoy's face remained blank as she stopped along the edge of the dance floor, waiting for him to start.

_Fast and overdone of slow and precise?_ He asked her mentally, his eyes boring into hers as he stood with his hands at his sides. Her lips quirked upward as she responded, stepping closer to him.

_Let's give Slughorn something to brag about,_ she voiced simply. He understood and closed the gap between them, placing his left hand on her lower back as his right rose to meet hers once again. With a wink that no one other than Hermione noticed, he began their dance, stepping backward in unison with her. Malfoy noticed every subtle hint Hermione provided that Harry had missed, spinning her when she slightly raised her hand, dipping her if she backed away on one side. Their dance wasn't as sweaty and intense as it had been the first time, seeing as soon the floor emptied and people began to watch them twirl around the room, but it was impressive nonetheless. Slughorn began to beam at a job well done as Malfoy's hand moved to her hip during one step. Ginny marveled at Hermione's hidden talent, gasping as the couple's eyes closed and yet they remained perfectly coordinated.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing,_ Malfoy repeated to himself as he spun her yet again and the tips of her skirt fanned out and brushed his knees. _Nothing, nothing, nothing!_ AS the boy pulled her back in and they returned to their original position, his eyes opened to see her staring up at him, a tiny droplet of sweat on her forehead. Their eyes met and he began to think, _something, something, something. _ He pulled her closer with more vigor, not noticing that now every single person, elf, and decorative fairy was now tracking their every movement. _Something, something, oh Merlin something!_

She was getting tired, her breathing ragged as the song began to get faster. They cut across the side of the floor, both of them spinning in circles as the climax approached. Expertly he moved his hands to her thin waist and picked her up, rotating in a circle before setting her down on her feet and spinning her out again. With a final note from the piano he tugged her back in, her back crushing into his chest and his arm wrapped around her front. His cheek pressed against hers, his mouth slightly open as he panted into her ear. They stayed that way, regaining their breath as their audience clapped enthusiastically. Something, something, something.

"I'd say I'm presentable," she whispered quietly as she slowly turned, still holding his hand. She was smirking slightly, looking completely beautiful. Malfoy struggled to keep his face blank as she laughed at her own joke. Not trusting himself to speak, mental or otherwise, he stared unwaveringly into her eyes as he raised her hand to brush it against his lips. Then he slowly released it, before winking and turning to disappear through the whirl of robes and blurred colors.

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**A/N: Yes, that is my longest chapter ever and I hope you loved it as much as I did. The next one isn't as long, but it's still cool. Then the 9th chapter is about the prophecy coming true. –Insert smug smirk- Teaser?**

_Knowing what to do without thinking, Malfoy pulled her hand free of the sheets where it had become tangled to see her W was like his own, a brilliant vibrant red._

**That teaser should keep you guessing for a while. Believe me. I'd better go start my social studies homework that I've blown off for a month. Oh well, say goodbye to the rest of my vacation, right? Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 1913 (OMFG! That's huge! 14 Word Pages!)**


	8. Dancing With The Devil

**A/N: Now I understand that this chapter is random, but I couldn't resist but write the caring and gentle Draco, plus I had a serious cold when I wrote this chapter, so I felt like making Hermione sick. This is my spite chapter. I hope it's funny. From this point forward things continue to get random, so just stay with me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter, other than my GoF poster and my GoF calendar. **

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**Chapter 8: Dancing With The Devil**

"I heard you danced with the devil last night," someone whispered deviously as Hermione woke up the following morning. She yelped and opened her eyes while sitting up to find Parvati and Lavender both sitting on the end of her bed, smirking like they knew her dirtiest secret.

"How on earth do you two keep getting in here?" she snarled, rubbing her eyes with her wrists. Lavender laughed and answered,

"You told Harry the password, who told Ron, who told Ginny, who told us!" Knowing there wasn't much she could do, Hermione glowered at them. "Anyway, Ginny told us about your little rendezvous with Malfoy at Slughorn's party. Do dish all the dirt!" Hermione groaned before falling back into the pillows with a grimace.

"I just danced with him, it wasn't a big thing!" The two girls looked at each other, eyebrows raised, as she rolled over.

"But Hermione, it _is_ a big thing!" Parvati contradicted.

"A _very_ big thing," Lavender emphasized.

"You danced with the _hottest_ guy in the school,"

"_The_ hottest."

"And if Ginny's information is anything to go by, you _both_ enjoyed it!"

"_Enjoyed_ it," Lavender finished, both of them looking pleased. Hermione rolled her eyes, sitting up again. "So tell us, when are you seeing him again?"

"I don't know! Honestly, there is nothing going on between me and Malfoy!" Lavender shrugged and began to pick at her nails, but Parvati looked sheepish, staring up at the canopy.

"For now at least," she observed quietly, gaining Hermione's attention.

"What do you mean?" Glad to be the center of attention once again, Parvati sighed dramatically, before tucking her legs underneath her and folding her hands in her lap.

"When I was doing research for Professor Trelawney I came across this prophecy, I did an essay on it for extra credit," she started, her voice becoming gauzy at the mention of her favorite teacher. Hermione gulped, steeling herself for whatever horrors were to come. "It's really old and most of it has become pureblood folklore by now, but it basically says that when the youngest children of the Malfoy and White families fall in love and have lots of babies, the world will be happy!" Lavender beamed at this new information, whilst Hermione's eyebrows rose. Well, that wasn't exactly what it said, but that was just as incriminating when it came to the two other Gryffindor seventh years.

"You guys know how I feel about Divination," she replied, her tone dismissive. Lavender nodded.

"You think it's absolute crap!"

"More or less, yes," she answered. "Now can you two scamper off and do your hair, I've got to meet Harry and Ron." They nodded, leaping off the bed. However, once they were gone and she slid out of bed, Parvati stuck her head back through the door, her braid sweeping across her shoulder.

"Just be sure to remember every little detail when you do nail him, cause we want a full report." She barely made it out the door before a pillow smacked against it.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

As was custom for the Golden Trio, the first Saturday back was spent in the library for Hermione and on the Quidditch field for Harry and Ron. They walked together down to the library before splitting up and going in their separate directions. She wasn't sure why they felt the need to accompany her, but she never protested. She had a sinking suspicion that they did it to protect her, and although most girls might find that offensive and sexist, Hermione was grateful for the extra ten minutes with the boys. Harry and Ron would always remain her friends, near and dear to her heart, but they were popular, no doubt about it. Sure her newly announced parentage could swing opinions in her favor, but she wasn't as wild and fun as the male portion of the trio, preferring to cuddle up with a book than hang out in the stands of a crowded quidditch pitch.

Abusing her favorite power as head girl, Hermione found a stack of random books from the restricted section that took her interest and dropped them down on the table. First came a book on telepathic communication in hopes of finding out how Malfoy kept talking to her inside her head, which proved useless. The second was a beautifully detailed biography of her biological grandfather, Edward White, who was a talented healer. She snuggled up in an armchair toward the back of the empty section, delighted by her find. However, she gained a sense of acute paranoia when she found repeated mentions of the Malfoys in the oddest places, such as when Abraxas Malfoy entered Edward's ward with a Manticore bite.

"Classic Mione," someone commented from behind her chair. She started, pulled out of her stupor. A muddy Ron and Harry walked around her chair to face her as she scrambled to tuck her notes, most of which including references to the youngest Malfoy, back into her bag. "First week back and you've already started a research project." Once all of her parchment was stashed away, she smacked him playfully on the arm, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Hey, ease up Ron," Harry chided, tugging her shoulder strap away from her to carry it himself. Hermione didn't protest; glad to be rid of the heavy weight. "If she wasn't living in the library she wouldn't be our Mione!" Ron pulled her up out of her chair, not letting go of her hand. Harry took her other hand and they led her out of the library, bickering back and forth.

"Isn't that what I said?"

"You say a lot of things, most of which don't make sense." She smiled as they rounded a corner, making room for her between them. They wouldn't get much more peace like this in the future, what with Voldemort and Malfoy. She had to take advantage of this when she could.

"Well look who it is," Ron drawled, causing Hermione to look away from Harry and see Malfoy himself frozen in the shadows, his face gaunt. She wondered how long he'd gone without a decent meal. Harry stiffened besides her, automatically letting go of her hand to draw his wand, but the blond didn't arm himself, knowing the risks of doing so could be dire for him. After all, if he was kicked out of Hogwarts for fighting Potter, the order wouldn't take him in, and he would be forced to crawl back to his father and the Dark Lord. "The little shadow ferret."

"Ronald," she warned quietly, seeing the deer in the headlights look on Malfoy's face. Neither of them moved.

"What are you up to now, Malfoy? Plotting to kill another teacher?" Ron fired as if he hadn't heard her.

_We both know I can't defend myself, White, get them out of here,_ Malfoy mentally ordered, his voice sounding empty and hollow as it echoed through her mind. He was looking her in the eye, his pleading stare relentless.

_You know how they get, they won't back down,_ she replied, biting her lip out of nerves. He didn't look away, begging her with his eyes. But Malfoys never beg, it was in their handbook! _I'll see what I can do._

"Speechless Malfoy?" Harry taunted, taking a step forward to stand next to Ron. Perfect. Hermione drew out her wand and waved it back and forth between them, thinking _Animosita desparo_. As her calming charm took effect, the boys' duel stance relaxed, and they stepped back to stand next to her, looking bored.

_You're welcome,_ she said to Malfoy, but he only sneered at her. _What, no 'Thank you for saving me from expulsion'? _He blinked at her, before turning around and stalking off.

**(A/N: Here's where it gets weird.)**

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He felt a little guilty, sure. Malfoy knew he should have thanked Hermione for diverting Potter and Weasley. However, that repeated _something, something, something_ ringing through his head 24/7 prevented him from doing so.

Little did Hermione know, he hadn't been sleeping either. Nightmares plagued him when he drifted off, so he chose to sit in the Owlrey all night, watching the stars and the owls that flew between them. His dormitory was not safe for him, there were to many spies. Needless to say, his father would have been looking for him if he had not been in Azkaban, and surely the Dark Lord would not be happy with his disappearing act. Although the Order had taken him in over the summer, he had not officially switched sides, so he would not have their protection if Death Eaters came after him. And they would eventually. The Dark Lord never let a mistake go, nor a rogue Death Eater.

If he slept he would be too vulnerable; an easy target for Crabbe of Goyle. Instead he rested, sitting in the windowsill. In early September it was still warm and he would stay in his oxford uniform shirt and dark trousers without feeling cold. His blond hair looked almost white in the moonlight, but there was no one to see it, not even Hermione. It was like hibernation for him, one hour passed, then two, then three. He hardly had a thought, not about Voldemort, not about Snape, not about Hermione. But that wasn't for long.

_Fuck,_ was his first thought of the evening as his hand began to burn slightly. He looked down to his left palm to find that his M was glowing red. _What the hell is that?_ It slowly began to hurt more and more and he slid off the windowsill to stand in the Owlrey as the pain began to grow stronger. After being put under Crucio by his father regularly this was manageable for Malfoy, but it still hurt nonetheless. As the light from his glowing tattoo began to pulse, he understood. It was looking for its mate. Which meant Hermione was feeling this too. Of course she wouldn't have such a tolerance for pain like he did. He had to get to her.

With every step he took towards Gryffindor tower, it became more powerful. Avoiding Filch and his damn cat was near impossible when his hands were shaking. Thankfully he knew enough shortcuts to get across the castle in five minutes without bumping into anyone, but by that time a line of sweat bridged his forehead from restraint to keep himself from yelling. However, when he reached the portrait Zambini had told him about the previous year, he was at a loss of what to do. He didn't know the password, and the so-called 'Fat lady' was not in her frame. So, hopeless and shivering, he raised a fist and hammered away on the canvas in hopes that someone would hear and let him in. _Come on, come on, come on,_ he pleaded to himself, his teeth clenched. _Please, I swear I'll never hex any hufflepuffs again!_ An earsplitting shriek came from the other side of the wall, and he intensified his knock, sure it was from Hermione. _I'll give up quidditch if someone answers!_

Finally a timid looking Neville Longbottom stuck his head though to see who was there, and Malfoy grabbed the edge of the frame and pulled it open, shoving the boy aside to jump into the common room. Without a second glance at the packed room and the complete Gryffindor, house who Hermione must have woken up, he followed the screams to an open door, where a terrified Ginny Weasley was watching Potter and Weasley try to help a writhing Hermione. Weasley turned as he sped past him and ordered for him to get out, but the blond didn't hear him as he knelt down on the floor next to the bed, on which Hermione was wide eyed. Knowing what to do without really thinking, Malfoy pulled her hand free of the sheets where it had become tangled, to see her W was like his own, a bright vibrant red. He twisted her wrist slightly and pressed his palm against hers so that the upside down W and his own M aligned perfectly, and instantly her tortuous screams stopped. He took a great racking breath, wiping his sweat on his sleeve, as Ginny ushered the boys out of the room and closed the door. Once they were alone, he asked,

"Are you okay?" She took a forced breath that didn't come out easily and shook her head. Suddenly all thought left him and he had no idea what to do next. He moved to let of her hand but she gripped it tighter, squeezing her eyes shut. Petrified, he stood up and looked around the room. It was large, with a cluster of armchairs and a fireplace as well as several doors that no doubt led to closets and a bathroom. The bed was also had a large amount of room and he sat down on its edge, slipping off his shoes. Before his common sense could yell at him for it, he asked quietly, "Can I stay here?" Still paper white and panting, she nodded, reluctant to let his hand go.

"What… the hell… was that?" she stammered, as he unbuttoned his shirt one handed.

"A warning," he answered gently. "Something happened." His voice was rough from lack of use. Malfoy slid under the red and gold covers without hesitation, knowing he was safe here from Crabbe, Goyle, his father, and Voldemort. Although Potter wouldn't protect him, he would protect Hermione.

"What do… we do?" she asked, each word staggered.

"We don't fight this," he said. He reached over her to snuff her candle, but stopped halfway there as he looked down at her. She was trembling still. "Can you still feel it?"

"N-no. I just d-don't feel so good." Concerned, he lowered his right hand and pressed it against her forehead to feel her temperature. For some reason she as burning up.

"Merlin, you're ill." Knowing he couldn't bring her to the hospital wing, lest admit to barging into Gryffindor house, he pulled out his wand from his pants pocket and conjured a rag. Then he leaned over and pulled the pitcher of water off her bedside table. He dipped the cloth into the water and rung some of it out, before wiping the sweat off Hermione's forehead. Then he pushed back some of her blankets and slid the rag down her face as he had seen his mother do to his father after death eater meetings. Normally, her red and gold cotton pajamas would have made him gag, but he ignored them. "Do you have anything under these?" She nodded, and immediately he unbuttoned her thick top, sighing in relief when he found she was wearing a small camisole underneath it. He pulled off her sleeves with some difficulty, forcing her to let go of his hand. Being a gentleman, he was reluctant to take off her drawstring bottoms. But when she began to toss and turn slightly he anxiously undid them and slid them off her, looking determindly away from her blue and pink stripped underwear.

_'Potter and Weasel would kill me if they walked in now',_ he realized as she shook violently, her face flushing. Malfoy knew he would have to wait until the fever broke in a few hours, so he conjured more cloths and resumed pressing them to her forehead.

Since the fever had been magically induced, it wouldn't last as long as a normal one, he hoped. So when the golden duo would come looking for her in the morning, hopefully she would be better. That meant he would have to tend to her until morning. Not that he minded, he would prove to her that he was ready to be realistic. It scared him seeing her like this. She looked terrible, her skin beginning to shine with the sweat he was working to wipe off. Her constant trembling distracted him from her perfect legs, so he continued to create new rags and slide them over her skin. He helped her, knowing it was his job to do so. When she began to whimper and feel cold an hour or two later, he pulled the blankets back over her. When she was still cold, he went under them himself and drew her closer to him, providing body heat. How weak and defenseless she was in this tormented sleep worried him, and he wrapped his arms around her, comforted only by her steady breathing. As the sun came up he himself began to drift off, wondering what had triggered the attraction in the first place.

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Professor McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin stood around Hermione's bed, looking down at the sleeping couple. Minerva bit her lip out of concern, confused and worried. Snape simply scowled at Hermione's sleeping figure as he took her temperature. Remus was frowning as he read his newspaper.

"One thousand muggles dead, three thousand missing," he read aloud, his tone tired. "You-Know-Who himself made an appearance." Minerva rubbed her forehead.

"Kingsley told me Ms. White's foster parents were among those killed," she admitted sadly. "If it wasn't for Horance's party You-Know-Who might have never found out about her true parentage." Snape shook his head.

"He already knew. He still has spies here." Remus folded a corner of his newspaper and handed it to the headmistress.

"The article about Hermione didn't help." Indeed, in the bottom right cover of the front page was a small editorial about the student, complete with a school picture. The headline read, Hogwarts Student Missing Heiress. "I recommend you up the security, Minerva. Hermione and Draco are both in grave danger."

"Thank heavens Rita Skeeter didn't mention the prophecy," she said as she briefly scanned the article. Hermione stirred and they all looked up, but she only buried her face into Malfoy's neck before continuing to sleep peacefully.

"The Dark Lord already knows of it," informed Snape as he finished looking over Hermione. "He's always been obsessed with pureblood folklore. She retained normal temperature now." The other two nodded. "It's almost nine, they should wake soon."

"You'd better go," Remus said, moving to unlock the window. Snape sighed and transformed into his animagus form, which was ironically a bat. He flew out the open window and Remus closed it behind him with a small thunk. "Let's leave these two in peace, Minerva. Harry and Ron can wait a little longer." She nodded slowly with a last look at the two curled up teenagers. Remus followed her out the door and into the common room, where Ron, Harry and Ginny were all waiting for them. Harry leapt up, looking worriedly at the door as she clicked it shut.

"How is she?" he asked quickly.

"They are both fine," Minerva responded, refixing her bun. Ginny gasped, and Ron stood up in alarm. Harry spoke for them.

"They? You mean Malfoy is still _in_ there?" Remus held up his hand to stop them.

"Yes he is. He also was affected by this warning, though not as strongly as Hermione. Do not let your bias against Draco override your understanding of his pain." Ron scowled and Ginny pulled Harry's hand, tugging him to sit back down next to her. "He cared for her over the night and they are both sleeping it off."

"Sir, what happened?" Ginny asked hesitantly. Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"There was an attack on a muggle highway last night, and Hermione's parents were among those who perished. Apparently some type of enchantment has been placed on Draco and Hermione to guide them, we're looking into it."

"But sir, why Malfoy?" Harry asked. Remus' eyebrows rose.

"Have you not been informed of the prophecy?" Harry shook his head, but Ron sat up straight.

"Do you mean the prophecy about the Malfoy and White heirs? But that's hardly a rumor these days, it was never fulfilled!" he protested, brow's furrowed.

"Well, it seems it's being fulfilled now. I must ask you three to please not bother Draco. He and Hermione are both under a lot of pressure currently." They all nodded reluctantly. "Ron, Ginny, please inform Harry of the prophecy. Professor McGonagall and I must go plan their protection." He walked towards the portrait hole and left with a final wave. Professor McGonagall straightened up and added,

"I would recommend you give the two of them space when they awake. Hermione has just gotten over a favor and no doubt Mr. Malfoy will be very moody and embarrassed about his position." With that she left, leaving them to their troubled thoughts.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**A/N: I must thank my beta, dan-lovr, who is awesome. Of course, she already knew that. I must warn you, it gets strange from here. Kind of. And I've been reading Romeo and Juliet in English class, so I'm going to start to parallel WWMB and that, because during class I realized how alike the two are. But I doubt both Draco and Hermione die in the end; so don't panic and flame me. Teaser?**

"_Now I don't need them! Any of them! And I _don't_ need Ron to protect me from you!"_

**Dun dun dun. See you all later, and please review, it makes me feel special. Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 3636**


	9. Power and Emotion

**A/N: Did you like that last chapter? Did you? Did you? Heh heh, that's my ADD!Sirius impression of the day. Anyway, I love this chapter, because it gets the ball rolling, in all directions. I hope you like it. Hehe. I'm just stalling now. Do do. Do do do DO DO do! Oh great, ADD!Sirius is back.**

**Oh, now I remember. Since my birthday is coming up, I would absolutely love it if for a present to me, someone did fan art to go with the story for me! I'm absolute crap when it comes to any medium of art, but if someone with talent could do a sketch and email it to me, I'd publish it in my blog and credit you, plus add you as a character in my new story My Past, His Present, Your Future. Please? For any of my stories, even my one-shots. I want something to show off to my friends at school to prove someone actually reads my fan fiction.**

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**Chapter 9: Power and Emotion**

Hermione woke up feeling cold, and it soon became obvious why. She was sprawled on her stomach on her bed, with the covers off, in her underwear. Shivering, she pulled a sheet up from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her torso, sitting up. A crinkle of newspaper informed her that she was not alone, and she scooted around to see Malfoy sitting still in his uniform, reading the Sunday Prophet. The scowl on his face did not comfort her in the slightest. He looked up as she got up and sat down across from him, the sheet wrapped around her like a toga.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked quietly as he looked back to his paper. She nodded, raising a hand to rub her neck.

"Fine thanks." She watched him read, his eyes darkening. "What's in the news?"

"I've found the reason for the warning last night." He handed her the front page. She saw what he meant immediately.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Melts Muggle Highway

A colored moving photo showed the dark mark glimmering above a river of tar, out of which thousands of muggle cars stuck. "It's not a pretty story," Malfoy said sarcastically, gesturing to the statistics. "He risked revealing magic to muggles, the ministry is still wiping memories." She nodded vaguely, still scanning the picture. It was as if someone had just flooded a Hot Wheels display. But one car out of the many caught her attention. A certain navy-blue VW Bug was turned upside down, its wheels in the air like a turtle. That was the Grangermobile as her father called it.

"Oh my god," Hermione breathed, staring dumbfounded at the picture, disbelieving.

"What is it?" he asked, watching her trace a finger over the newsprint.

"That's my car," she whispered, a tear dropping onto the page. "That's my car! He did this on purpose. He did this to threaten me!" Malfoy stood up to stand behind her chair, leaning forward to see what she was pointing to. "That's _my car_," she repeated.

"White, look farther down," he urged, pointing to the editorial in the bottom corner. She folded the newspaper over to more clearly see the article on her.

"Fuck," she stammered, using both hands to smooth it out over her knee, glaring at her photograph. "We're doomed, Malfoy!" He shushed her, circling his arms around her shoulders.

"No we're not. We're safe here at Hogwarts, he can't reach us here." Hermione turned around to face him, shrugging off his arms. The knot holding her toga up slipped off, and he looked away.

"The only reason Hogwarts was safe was because of Dumbledore! Now that he's gone we mind as well wave a flag saying 'Come get us!'" She twisted to kneel on the cushion facing him. "He's going to _get_ us, Malfoy!"

"Stop it White, he's not going to get us," he scolded, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You need to relax." She scrunched up her face in frustration, gripping the top of her chair.

"Relax? You want me to relax? He _killed_ my parents! He did this because of me; I _know_ he did! It's a warning! He knows about the prophecy and he's going to _kill_ us!" Malfoy watched hopelessly as she burst into tears, crumpling against the back of the armchair. Malfoy had never been good at comforting upset women, so instead of trying to cheer her up, he chose to walk over to her closet and sort through it for something she could wear. To his disbelief, she hardly had any clothes that weren't her uniform of outrageously frumpy. Finally he unearthed the white skirt he had seen her wear over the summer and a green polo shirt. He then stood awkwardly by her chair, wondering what to do.

"White?" He got no response. "White, why don't you put these on and we can go see the headmistress?" Hermione moaned desperately, but showed no sign of hearing him. Sighing deeply, Malfoy put the outfit on the coffee table before taking her elbow and pulling her into a standing position. Immediately she threw her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly backwards. "I don't think we can walk to the headmistress's office with you in your underwear," he voiced aloud, more to himself than her, before pulling out his wand and magicking the clothes onto her, supporting her one handed. "Please stop crying, White." Needless to say, she didn't. His patience finally snapping, he scooped his left arm under her knees and his right under her shoulders. Automatically, she slid her arms around his neck and smushed her face into his shirt, causing him to scowl. "Alright, here we go, White." As he passed her bedside table he grabbed her head girl badge and slid it into his pocket, knowing he would need it to enter McGonagall's office. The newspaper he had been reading tumbled to the floor as a rush of air entered the room when he opened the door to the common room. Sighing deeply, he shifted her in his arms so that he could close the door, not noticing the three Gryffindors leap up upon his entry.

"My god Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked as he ran over to her side, with the two Weasleys just behind him. Malfoy looked impatiently toward the door as Hermione ignored her friends, still overcome with grief. "Hermione?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why she wasn't answering. He looked at Malfoy and accusingly hissed, "What did you do to her?" Malfoy's own eyebrows rose, but he didn't answer. Harry sighed harshly. "Oh that's right, I forgot you don't talk."

"Easy Harry, remember what Professor Lupin told us," Ginny warned him, laying a hand on his arm. _Yes, that's it Potter. Listen to the Weaslette,_ Draco thought to himself. Harry glared at him, but listened predictably to Ginny.

"If you so much as lay one hand on her, you're dead Malfoy, do you hear me?" Ron growled, seeing as he had no girl to restrain him. Malfoy blinked at him, before brushing past him to the portrait hole. They didn't bother stopping him.

The walk up to Professor McGonagall's office was hard, to say the least. He took as many secret passageways as possible, for Hermione's sanity as well as his. Somewhere along the way she stopped crying, but he didn't set her down on her feet. And for some reason, she didn't want him to. He made her feel safe, reassuring in a way. She blew her nose into his shirt, snuggling closer to him. He was warm.

Lots of thoughts raced through her head as he flashed her badge to the gargoyle. What was Voldemort doing? Would he come after her? Had he attacked that highway because of her, or was it a coincidence that her parents took that route home each night? Would she be safe? Would Malfoy be safe? Would he protect her? She snuffled, feeling confused. _'I care nothing about you,' _he'd said. She could see his sneer, his eyes dark and whirling like dust in a tornado. And yet now here he was, carrying her like she was about to break. Did she want him to care? She wasn't sure. When he had kissed her, it felt like the world was ending. The room had faded into a blur; her knees had gone weak. It wasn't like kissing Krum; it was like nothing she'd ever felt before. But what did that mean? What did _anything_ mean?

'_Confusion, names and old rivalries do not hold a candle to love born from hate.'_ Was that what this was? Love? Malfoy stopped on the landing outside the door to the office. He gently set her down on her feet, looking her over carefully. She didn't object as he smoothed a wrinkle of her shirt on her shoulder, and instead stared unwaveringly into his eyes. They were guarded; she couldn't pick out any emotion from them. Then he walked appraisingly around her, looking for any faults. Strangely enough, it didn't bother her, she felt completely comfortable with him. After all, hadn't it been him who had held her when she was sick last night? At least that's what she remembered; anything after the warning was kind of blurry. Satisfied, he pulled out his wand and muttered something, and she felt her face dry, all her tears gone. She looked back at his pale face, memorizing every contort and worry line. This boy was so different from her on the surface. She had been coddled as a child; with loving parents and teachers who thought she could do no wrong. He had _Death Eaters_ for parents, with no love or real friendships. A pureblood.

'_Stubborn minds of youth are more alike than believed.'_ It was true. _She_ was a pureblood. _He_ could do no wrong. They were both alone, since her friends didn't understand. Except now they both had each other. Malfoy finished his job by conjuring a thin white ribbon that matched her skirt, then walking behind her. She smiled hesitantly as he carefully braided her hair and tied the end with it, before placing a hand on her shoulder and spinning her gently around. The corners of her lips quirked upwards as he asked her,

"Ready?" She took a deep breath before nodding off. He dropped his hand off her shoulder to her hand, and gave it a small squeeze before letting it go. Then he turned and knocked on the door. Almost immediately it was pulled open by their old professor, Remus Lupin. He smiled sadly upon seeing them, and stepped aside so they could enter. Hermione walked in before Malfoy, her posture straightening and confidence supposedly restored as she crossed the threshold, just as his smile dropped from his face. They sat down in wooden chairs in front of McGonagall's desk. She looked up from her blueprints of Hogwarts, her face stern. Remus sat down on Hermione's other side.

"Ah yes, Ms. White, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, her voice tired and rough. Hermione waved feebly, while her acquaintance glared at the floor. "I trust you both have read today's paper." She nodded. Her professor sighed deeply, fingering the edge of her blueprints. Hermione waited for the inevitable confession. "Ms. White, I'm afraid I have some bad news." Malfoy watched as the girl next to him bit her tongue. "I'm afraid that there's no way I can say this that will make it hurt less-,"

"Oh just say it, the Grangers are dead," Hermione snapped impatiently. McGonagall jerked her head up, causing her bun to go lopsided. Remus leant his elbows against his armrest and put his head in his hands. '_The daughter knows not of power,'_ Malfoy realized.

"Ms. White, how do you know?" Hermione snarled at the floor.

"Call it intuition." A little startled, but nonetheless focused, McGonagall retained her strict expression and cleared her throat.

"Well yes, your foster parents were among those who lost their lives during last night's attack. Seeing as neither of them revised their will before hand, everything under their name goes to you. If you would like, Professor Lupin can get your affairs in-," a little annoyed, Hermione interrupted again.

"Have all of their funds exchanged into wizarding currency and transferred into my Gringotts account," she ordered in a businesslike tone. Not used to being directed, her headmistress blinked repeatedly. Hermione tucked one leg behind the other, looking blankly at her.

"Of course, now as for their earthy possessions and property-,"

"Sell it all. There's nothing there that I want. Any files or documents can also be moved to my vault." McGonagall nodded feverously as Remus pulled a notepad out of his cloak and began to jolt these things down. "They can be laid to rest beside my father's parents in Brighton, that is if they have any remains. There will not be a public service, seeing as Voldemort would be expecting me to attend and could plan another similar attack. No more innocent lives can be lost." Malfoy watched amused as she plowed on, all traces of the vulnerable girl he had held in his arms gone. She was no longer frightened, no longer intimidated, no longer wide-eyed and screaming like the night before. The instant transformation scared him. McGonagall regained control of the conversation with a nod in Remus' direction.

"Yes, the security is most important at this point in time. For now we should continue as if nothing has happened. However, I can assure you we are adding more wards around Hogwarts and that nothing from outside can hurt you. We do fear that there are spies inside the school that are harder to protect you from."

_Like Zambini_, Malfoy thought. _And most of the Slytherin seventh-years_.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are also in danger. Although you were not mentioned in today's prophet, it is safe to assume You-Know-Who already knows you are here at school. It would not be wise to have you stay in the Slytherin dormitories." Remus picked up where she left off, turning slightly in his chair to face the pokerfaced teenagers.

"Professor McGonagall and I have been searching Hogwarts records for a private dorm, but if you-,"

"He can stay with me in my dorm," Hermione said quickly. The other three turned to stare at her, all of them equally shocked. "I'm sure we would be safest together."

_What are you doing?_ Malfoy asked mentally. She silenced him with a look.

"Excuse me, Ms. White?" McGonagall asked doubtfully, her eyebrows raised.

"I would like to stay as close to him as possible in case of another warning. If he were to have a room somewhere in the castle it may take too long for us to reach other, possibly not at all. No, it would be best if Malfoy stayed in my room." The headmistress looked unsure, but Hermione had convinced Remus.

"That sounds like the best option to me, Minerva. I can have a word with Harry and Ron to insure that they don't protest the arrangement, if you would like." After looking Malfoy over appraisingly, she finally said,

"Very well, I will have a house elf send your things to Ms. White's room. You two must understand I am placing a lot of trust in you by agreeing to this. If I hear of any funny business, you will be moved to a different location, Mr. Malfoy." He blinked at her. Hermione resisted the urge to smirk triumphantly. "If we have no further business to attend to, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave." The two teenagers stood in unison. Remus waved goodbye, but he received only a curt nod from Hermione and no sign of recognition from Malfoy. When the two of them had left, he turned back to the scowling witch.

"The prophecy is being fulfilled as we speak, Minerva. I trust you've seen it." She sighed before nodding.

"Yes, Hermione is beginning to use her power. She bossed me about as if I were a younger sibling. And Draco as well seemed different. I can't pinpoint it, but it was there." Remus chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair.

"He seems to be feeling for her. I just hope that when the time comes Draco will feel strongly enough for Hermione to join our side. I still see doubt in him."

"For now it's a waiting game."

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_McGonagall's a sitting duck,_ Malfoy observed as he followed Hermione back to Gryffindor tower. She walked slightly ahead of him, her skirt swaying back and forth as she walked. She snorted softly in agreement.

_It doesn't take a Ravenclaw to figure that out. She's becoming easy to manipulate._ He smirked at her naiveté. Falling in step beside her, he responded,

_She's always been like that, White. You've just never been that confident in what you want._ He arrogantly smoothed back his hair before adding, _you reminded me of myself back there._ She looked up, startled. He winked at her, making her snarl aloud,

"There's a difference between flaunting your name and using it to get things done, Malfoy." He quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, an unvoiced 'prove it.' "Flaunting your name is done to get attention and sway people's opinions or actions in your favor. Using you name isn't selfish, it is merely done to make things go faster, or in the proper direction." He grinned and shook his head.

_These sound remarkably similar to me._ She placed a hand on her hip and stopped walking.

_How so?_

_They're both used to gain power. Neither is good, because as you know power corrupts. They are _both_ used selfishly, and they _both_ are done by people who believe themselves better than others._ He clucked his tongue as if scolding a small child. _And I thought you knew that, White. Tell me, why the sudden change of attitude?_ She sighed and resumed walking.

_You bring up an interesting point Malfoy, but I assure you nothing has changed._

_I have to disagree. That was _not_ bookworm Granger in McGonagall's office. You're no longer a doormat. I just want to know why._ They rounded a corner and he thanked the heavens that it was Sunday and that most students were still asleep, meaning the hallways were empty. _Oh come on, White. In all honesty, why are you so afraid?_

"Because I don't care what they want," she finally snapped. He grinned triumphantly.

_Explain._

"I used to depend on them. All of them, Harry and Ron, Ginny, Slughorn, McGonagall, my parents, Remus, everyone. I was constantly trying to be what they wanted, the star student, the cautious study partner, the shoulder to cry on. Without them I wasn't anybody. I wasn't popular. I wasn't beautiful. I needed them to survive, so I molded into what they wanted." Malfoy could see where this was headed as his new roommate grimaced, making no noise as her padded feet stalked the floor. "Now I don't need them, any of them. This name gives me everything I depended on them to give me. I don't need to talk through Harry to get people to listen to me. I don't need my parents for support. I don't need Professor Lupin to learn. I'll find a way to crack into my biological parent's wealth. And I don't need Ron to protect me from you." Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd said, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Once again his eyebrows widened in disbelief.

_I wasn't aware that you needed Weasley to protect you from me,_ he said simply, for some reason not feeling proud that he scared her.

_That's not what I meant_, she responded, quickening her pace. He easily kept up with her.

_Your meaning seemed pretty clear to me._ She looked down at her feet as they came in and out from under her skirt as she walked. _Why would you need Weasley's protection?_ She stopped walking and suddenly and whirled around to face him, her face frighteningly honest. He took a step backwards when he saw all the emotion in her brown eyes.

"Because you could so easily hurt me," she whispered.

_What do you mean?_ He asked, a little confused. Even bookworm, mudblood Granger was untouchable. He had never once seen her cry and had long ago deemed her too strong to significantly weaken.

"Over the years you've gone out of your way to tease me, taunt me. I don't think you realized that each time you called a mudblood it hurt. Maybe not a lot, but they would add up. Plus you're stronger than me. If you were ever to try and physically attack me I would go down easily. Not to mention that now, in this position, you could easily break my spirit." This thought made him shiver, he had never realized how much power he held over Hermione.

_How?_ He asked shamelessly. It wasn't that he wanted to, he just had to know.

"Toying with my emotions." She sighed and backed up to lean against he wall. "Because of this prophecy I depend on you. That's the one thing my name can't save me from. It makes me weak and vulnerable, and if you- if I- if we," she looked up to the ceiling in search for words as he studied her face. Suddenly he understood her expression.

"If you had feelings for me and I turned you down it would be hard to recover," he finished aloud for her. She nodded. He took a slow step forward, his swagger absent, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked up shyly, her face burning with embarrassment. "I'm afraid I see a flaw that makes your fear irrational, White."

"What would that be?" she asked softly, looking into his eyes. She knew whatever he said next could make or break her, and he knew it too. He formed his words carefully as he slid his hand up to cup her cheek gently.

"Because on the teeniest, tiniest possibility that that day ever comes, only an idiot would turn you down."

What he had said could have meant many things, but whichever meaning it actually had, it still made her feel a little less afraid. It didn't mean that he loved her, it didn't mean that he thought she loved him, it didn't even mean that he wanted either, it just meant that he _wouldn't_ hurt her. And in that brief moment when he stood barely a foot away, with his hand curled slightly around her face, and her lips slightly apart, something almost microscopic changed. He stepped away, lowering his hand to his side, and lead the way to Gryffindor tower, while repeating a line from the prophecy silently to himself.

'The son knows not of emotion.'

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**A/N: Wow, these chapters are getting long. Anyway, I haven't written past this point, so I have no teaser. I really have no idea what I want to do next, so does any body have ideas? Well, I have a vague idea, but nothing sturdy for the next chapter.**

**And if you didn't read my first author's notes in the beginning, go read that now. Please. Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 3902**


	10. Too Close For Comfort

**A/N: Oh my god, I had an awesome birthday! Thank you guys for wishing me a happy birthday, it was so cool to see that you all had said something. More of my reviewers wish me a happy birthday than my friends. Sad right? Eh, anyway. I had a good day. So there.**

**There's more fairly obvious foreshadowing in this chapter, so just keep that in mind. Heh heh.**

**Disclaimer: By the time I own Harry Potter, I promise you that you will able to hold an intelligent conversation with a dust bunny named Joey. It will hit on you and ask for your number. Seriously.**

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**Chapter 10: Too Close For Comfort**

They were waiting for them. When Malfoy once again entered the Gryffindor common room with Hermione a step behind him, he found Harry and Ron playing a disinterested game of chess, with Ginny reading Witch Weekly. They all immediately looked up, thankfully the only ones in the common room, all their faces relieved that she was no longer crying. Not wanting to be in a room with four upset Gryffindors, he quickly fled to Hermione's room. However Ron was up out of his seat in less than a second and blocked Malfoy's path, placing his hand on the door to prevent it from opening. Malfoy glared up at him, he was a few inches shorter, and clenched his hand into a fist, knowing he couldn't harm Weasley.

"Going somewhere, Malfoy?" Ron snarled. Hermione rolled her eyes and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Ronald, let him go." The redhead sent her a shocked look and did as he was told, letting Malfoy slip through the door. "Thank you. Now sit down next to Harry and I can explain what's going on." He blinked up at her as she took a deep breath. "He's going to be living with me in my dorm." She braced herself for his explosion.

"WHAT?" Ron started, as Harry scowled and Ginny turned back to her magazine, knowing she would get the details later. "HE'S LIVING WITH YOU!"

"Shut _up_, Ronald! No one can find out!" she hissed, thinking of all the possible Gryffindor spies that could wake up and find them. Ron paid no attention and continued to yell, his voice echoing through the empty common room.

"HE'S DANGEROUS, HERMIONE! HE'S A BLOODY ROGUE DEATH EATER!" She cringed, knowing he was somewhat correct. "HE COULD BE SPYING FOR YOU-KNOW-WHO! YOU KNOW HOW EASY IT WOULD BE FOR HIM TO KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"

"Shut _up_, Ron!" she repeated, preparing to silencio him.

"NO I WILL NOT SHUT UP! HE MAY BE HANDSOME BUT HE'S A MURDERER!"

"Silencio!" Hermione yelled back, hitting Ron. He delivered another insult before realizing she couldn't hear him. "Now listen to me and listen well because I'm only going to say this once. Malfoy poses no threat to us so you will not harm him in any way. I am Hermione White as you well know, and I am faited to end up with him so you better get used to him being here." Harry's scowl faded as he noticed how uncomfortable she was with the idea. "Malfoy's here for his own protection as well as mine. No one was supposed to find out that he is here so you can't tell anyone, though they probably already know, no thanks to you." He didn't believe her but looked ashamed just the same. Harry, who hadn't spoken until now, said,

"I don't trust him but I trust you, Hermione. How he acts in Gryffindor tower will be a reflection on you." She nodded, knowing this was hard for him.

"I know Harry. He won't spend much time in here anyway." Hermione sighed and released Ron from the spell.

"Just watch him, Mione," he said, his voice tense. "And keep him out of my sight."

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

Malfoy was sorting through his trunk next to the fire when Hermione entered her room, just a little worried. Ron's confrontation had lead her to realize that if Malfoy took up residence in her dorm, not only would Voldemort use that to his advantage and rumors would spread, but the school's reaction would be like Ron's. He would have to stay hidden to a degree; they would both have to be careful.

"What are you doing?" she asked tiredly as she sat down across from him. He didn't respond, only scowled as he pulled a sleeve of parchment out of the trunk and threw it into the fire. They watched as the edges of the paper curl up and shrivel, turning black. "Malfoy?"

"I'm destroying anything my father could use to contact me," he snarled as he resumed scavenging in his trunk. "Letters, photos, anything flammable. My father favored paper, it was easier to destroy if someone picked up his trail." She nodded and he pulled a photo album out from under a pair of navy dress robes and chucked it into the fireplace without a second thought. It fell open, and she winced as the people in the pictures screamed silently as their faces faded.

"Need any help?" she asked timidly. He looked up and sent her a blank look, obviously a no. "Fine, but I need to ask you a question."

"What now?" With a curious glance towards the dress robe, he pulled it out and laid it on the floor, checking it for traces of surveillance charms. His wand buzzed, and he growled out, "The bastard _is_ keeping tabs on me!" before the cloth hit the fire.

"I need to know whether or not you're a death eater." He looked up again, his face blank once again. It unnerved her, and she picked an imaginary speck of lint off her skirt. Instead of an answer, he dropped the watch he had been examining and began unbuttoning his shirt, from the top frown. She blushed, but couldn't pull her eyes away from his pale chest, crisscrossed with long slash scars. "W-what are you doing?" she asked nervously.

"Giving you an answer." He slid his shirt off his shoulders. She sighed in disappointment when she saw the black skull on his left arm, avoiding his eyes.

"Was it consensual?" she asked, fearing his answer. He gave a short harsh laugh.

"It's not sex, White, it's a bloody tattoo," he drawled with a noticeable sense of false confidence. She glared at him, before hissing,

"We both know it's a whole lot more than a bloody tattoo." He sighed, his mocking smirk fading in less than a second. She leaned over, placing her hands on the top of his trunk.

"It was at first," he admitted quietly, raising a hand to scratch the dark mark nervously. "I was thrilled, completely willing, but I began to regret it when I saw what I had gotten myself into." Hermione's face softened as she realized how honest he was being with her. "It was so much more than bragging rights and influence, it was servitude to a lunatic." He humorlessly snickered to himself, reaching for his shirt. But before he could even so much as touch the sleeve, she extended a hand over the trunk to run her finger over a long scar that started at his breast bone and ran down his stomach to disappear under his pants. Malfoy flinched.

"How did you get all of these?" He pushed his trunk away with his foot so she could come closer, kneeling between his legs. Neither of them realized how intimate their position was, Malfoy was distracted by the feeling of her cool fingers against his skin. Hermione was simply horrified by the criss-crossing raised lines running along his chest like an intricate spider web.

"How do you think? This is the Dark Lord's preferred type of painful torture." She sucked in a breath as she noticed that several of his scars got deeper red as they went down, though most of which were not in her view.

"Can I see… um," she started, blushing as she motioned to his zipper. He gulped, but nodded, watching with no comment as her small fingers hesitantly unzipped his gray trousers. Hermione pulled on his belt loops as he shifted his weight onto his hands so she could guide them down his legs. Her eyes widened as she saw how they circled around his hips and that several were cut off by the waistband of his cotton boxers, only to reappear where the boxers ended and continue down his legs. "My god, Malfoy, these are _terrible_! Have you tried healing them?"

"It's part of their magic, they can't be healed. I usually illusion them." His heart seemed to beat in his throat as she placed her hand on his thigh to turn his leg over and better see a faded bruise that darkened under his knee. _Something_, that little voice repeated. _You like her, you know you do_. Unable to resist the moment and desperate to distract himself, he drawled,

"You gonna polish my wand while you're down there?" She laughed nervously and slapped him on his leg, but she backed up. However, since the fates were against her today, she had forgotten that his pants were around his ankles and she tripped over them, landing on her back. He chuckled softly as he gave her his hand to pull her back up. "Relax White, it was only a joke, but could you imagine the look on Patil and Brown's face if they walked in right now?" He smirked as he stood up, puling up his pants. "Or Weasley? That would be worth good money."

"If you're done poking fun at my friends, may we return to the matter at hand?" Hermione huffed, handing him his shirt.

"What was the matter at hand?" he asked back, straight faced. Hermione was not amused.

"You being a death eater. Is there any chance that Voldemort could summon you?" He hissed at the name but shrugged and responded,

"It's always a possibility, but I haven't seen him in months. Professor Snape told me to see him if I were, so I imagine the order with prepare for that." She nodded. Malfoy closed his still open trunk and sat on its lid, rubbing his eyes. "But we should probably worry about your little boyfriends instead, seeing as I'm not exactly welcome here." She sighed, knowing this was true, and sunk down into an armchair across from him.

"They'll be okay once Professor Lupin talks to them. What we need is a way to let you come in and out of the tower without anyone else finding out you're here." She pulled her hair out of her eyes and put it into a quick bun, trying to concentrate. He rolled his eyes at how it remained a bushy ball of fuzz at the back of her head, and began to button up his shirt. "I suppose we could get you an invisibility cloak, but those get cumbersome and would become a hindrance. What we need is to find a second entrance to my rooms from the hallway."

"And where exactly would we find out about a hidden passage way to your dorms, White?" he asked sarcastically. She didn't notice and continued plotting.

"What we need is a reliable map of Hogwarts, something that shows us stuff hardly anyone knows about," she voiced aloud. "Duh! Why didn't I think of it before?" She sprung up and left the room, leaving Malfoy to wonder what had happened. When she returned a few minutes later, she held a wrinkled sheet of parchment, and laid it on her coffee table. He stood up to lean over her shoulder as she pressed her wand to it and said,

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He watched, amazed, as lines of ink spread out from her wand tip like a droplet of water fanning out in rings over a pond, going on to map the school in detail. She smirked happily as she found Gryffindor tower and saw her and Malfoy's dots.

"What the _hell_ is that?" He asked as she traced her finger over it and looked across the room. According to the map there was a small tunnel behind her Gryffindor lion banner that would end just outside the Fat Lady's portrait.

"A map that Harry's father and his friends made," she said simply, standing up and walking to the red and gold tapestry. He followed her, as she continued, "No one other than Harry, Ron, the Weasley twins, Ginny, Professor Lupin, me, and now you know about it, so you can't tell anyone." Feeling slightly peeved that the Golden trio had a virtual ticket to the castle after hours, he watched helplessly as she pushed aside the faded fabric to see a hole about halfway up the wall that they could easily crawl through. "Get the map and follow me," she directed as she bent over and climbed into it. He did so and followed her through the slightly descending tunnel, crawling on the flat stone on his hands and knees. She was standing in front of the wall when he emerged from the passage and dusted himself off before looking down at the map.

_My little dot's saying geoffnet_, he remarked as he turned around to face the now blank, closed wall. The bricks that had just slid back into the wall reopened outwards, similar to the way the entrance to Diagon Alley did. _I guess we've established that the password's geoffnet. _She laughed lightly before ushering him back through the tunnel.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**Sleep didn't come as easily for Malfoy that night as it had the night before. Hermione passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, but he lay listlessly on the couch, unable to close his eyes. He wasn't in direct danger, but he couldn't shake his normal feeling of paranoia. The shadows cast by the fire in the grate seemed to make dark cloaked figures lurk in the corners, but there was nothing there other than dust bunnies and random stacks of books. He shifted onto his side, comfortable but not enough to doze off. Too much was on his mind.**

Hermione was one of them. He looked over at her, sleeping peacefully on her stomach with her curtains parted near her head. He smiled contently. She seemed to trust him, to believe that he regretted being a death eater. That was rare. He would have never told her that, but when she looked so disappointed in him he just had to say something and it came spilling out. She was a different breed of Gryffindor. She whimpered softly as she turned over onto her back, her eyelids fluttering. Aw, the poor dear was dreaming. And she was at his disposal.

That scared him. He didn't want to hurt her; she was almost like his friend. She seemed to trust him, enough to let him sleep in the same room as her, even though he had the mark of the enemy on his arm. 'I depend on you,' she'd said, her fearful look dancing through his mind. He sighed. That could mean a number of things. And so far, other than one kiss he had initiated spur of the moment, he had no reason to believe she liked him as anything more than an acquaintance, if not a friend.

Did he want her to? Really, in all brutal honesty, did he _want_ her, want to kiss her, talk to her, share with her, make love to her even? He rolled his eyes at his idiocy. Of course not, she was a White, the long time enemy of his grandfather, and his grandfather's grandfather! But then again, you couldn't stop the inevitable. They were destined to be together.

He was being silly; there was no such thing as destiny, that's codswallop. Only morons who also thought wizards should tell muggles about magic, cough Weasleys cough, believed in destiny of fate. Bloody divination…

Hermione's whimpers grew louder as she turned back over, and he shifted to see her better. Her hair was messed up and lopsided, and her mouth was moving, although he couldn't hear anything. A tiny bead of sweat was forming on her brow as she kicked away her sheets, jackknifing her legs. Puzzled, he wondered what she was dreaming of.

_Draco!_ She screamed, but not out loud. He flinched and sat up, bewildered. _Draco, he's dieing! Harry, he's ill, look, see!_ Shoving off his blanket, he swung his legs off the sofa and stood up quickly and walked over to her bed. Malfoy pushed aside her curtains to see her better.

"White?" he asked, placing his hand on her shoulder. She didn't open her eyes.

_Please, help him! He can't die, not now! PLEASE! COME BACK TO ME!_ Malfoy groaned as she yelled into his head, considering how she had wormed her way in. He hadn't taught her how.

"White, wake up! You're dreaming, it's a nightmare!" he repeated, sitting down on the side of her bed to reach for her hand. Wondering if it would help, he pressed her mark to his, but it didn't change anything.

_No, Draco! You're not one of them! YOU'RE NOT A DEATH EATER!_ She screamed frantically. Aggravated, his head throbbing, and suddenly fairly daring, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Just for a handful of seconds, five or six tops, he pressed his lips to hers. It stopped, and she apparently didn't wake up. He pulled away, ashamed of what he had done. He had taken advantage of her while she was _asleep_. Only scum did that! But nonetheless, he was still scared her nightmare would return, and she continued to twist slightly. Sighing deeply, he walked around to the opposite side of the bed and crawled in next to her, before wrapping his arms around her waist. She stopped, and immediately nuzzled her face against his bare chest. Malfoy smiled slightly, before closing his eyes.

He didn't notice a pair of startled, but nonetheless, happy brown eyes blink up at him sleepily before they too closed.

**0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0ooo0**

**A/N: And the plot thickens. Ok, I'm dead tired so I'll give you a teaser then go. And check out my blog, listed under homepage on my profile. More teasers there!**

_Hermione stirred against his neck as he stared in horror at the two smirking Gryffindor girls sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed._

**Heh heh. Three guesses who.**

**Final Word Count: 3095**


	11. Dragons and Dark Shadows

**A/N: Wow, sweet! 269 reviews! I'm amazed, you guys really delivered! I must thank you, you all rock. **

**Now can I ask you all a favor? Go read my new story Weak; it's really cool. It's a Voldemort/Hermione, which I know sounds really strange but trust me when I say it's really awesome. **

**I'll just start, I can't think of anything else to say.**

**Oh, and thanks to Chloe, my awesome beta!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, point and laugh. Point and laugh people, _point and laugh_. I.E. I don't own Harry Potter.**

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**Chapter 11: Dragons and Dark Shadows**

Draco woke up with a big gleaming smile on his face for the first time in a long time. The sun was streaming through the windows, he was in a warm and comfy bed instead of the perpetual chill of the dungeons, and a very attractive girl was nuzzled below his chin. Still groggy with sleep and his eyes only partially open and not yet adjusted to the light, he bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hairline, extremely content. Preparing to close his eyes and doze off again, he settled back against his pillow, only to have his eyes fly completely open upon hearing a feminine cooing sound coming from the end of the bed. Hermione stirred against his neck as he stared in horror at the two smirking Gryffindor girls sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

"We knew it," Parvati pronounced smugly as Lavender nodded along. He blinked for a minute, completely shocked, as Hermione opened her eyes and mumbled,

"Wha tim zit?" He bit his lip as the other girls grinned, obviously proud of their new, Witch Weekly worthy gossip discovery.

"It's time for you to fill us in, Hermy!" Lavender squealed, as Hermione's eyes widened in mortification.

_We've got a problem, White,_ he admitted silently as she sat bolt upright, fuming. They looked at her expectantly.

"How many times have I told you two not to come in here!" she yelled, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at Parvati's head. She ducked and responded,

"We would have if we knew you'd been shagging _Draco Malfoy!"_ Lavender winked seductively at him. He gagged. Hermione groaned.

"I am not shagging Malfoy, if you two would shut up I'd explain what's going on." They waited eagerly as she rubbed her eyes with her fists. "Malfoy, why don't you get dressed while I tell them?" He nodded, feeling vulnerable in only his long green sleep pants, even though he had illusioned his scars the previous night to prevent accidentally scaring Hermione. Parvati and Lavender's eyes followed him as he slid out of the bed and grabbed his uniform off his trunk, before entering the bathroom. Disgusted by their unhidden stare, she snapped, "Are you listening or not?"

"Of course we are," Lavender cooed. "So is he _good?_ Parkinson told me he-," Hermione rolled her eyes and cut them off, blushing slightly.

"I wouldn't know. He's merely living here for both our safety. There is nothing else going on." They raised their eyebrows doubtfully as she cringed. She knew that was coming.

"Then why were you just cuddling him? Was that 'for your safety' as well?" They giggled. She honestly didn't know what to tell them.

"When I went to sleep he was on the couch. I guess I had a nightmare and he moved in here to comfort me. We probably drifted that way while we were asleep," she lied, remembering Malfoy's preferred form of comfort. She blushed more strongly, remembering the kiss. They noticed instantly.

"Oh yes because that would explain why he was wearing a brilliant smile when he woke up, _and_ why he kissed you." Hermione froze. They _saw_ that? Oh god, which_ one? _Ron was going to _kill_ her.

"Hey, _he_ initiated that!" she screeched, her voice cracking. The girls turned to look at each other, their eyebrows disappearing into their hairlines.

"We were talking about just now when he kissed you on the forehead after he woke up. Apparently he's kissed you before?" Hermione mentally screamed at herself. _Of course they don't know about that, how could they? Moron._ They blinked at her. _Correction, they didn't know about that. Nice going 'Mione._

"Don't be silly," she mumbled, remembering what it felt like to be pressed up against him in the Room of Requirement, his tongue running across her lower lip. She was growing hot. They 'oooed'. "Would you two shut it?" They shook their heads.

"I don't think we can. So is he a good kisser?" Hermione cast an anxious glance towards the bathroom door, but when she heard the shower running she breathed a small sigh of relief. She had another five minutes at least. Knowing well that the only effective way to shut them up would be to tell them what they wanted, she caved and said,

"Yes, but it was only once and we never talked about it again afterwards." They giggled as she scoffed, sliding out of bed. "No one's supposed to know he's living here, guys, so you can't spread this around like two-knut gossip." They nodded eagerly.

"Of course not." _Giggle_.

"Wouldn't think of it." _Smirk_.

"You can trust us." _Coo_. Hermione knew she couldn't trust them, but dropped it anyway. Lavender sighed happily and added, "We'll leave you two alone, but remember Hermy, every single detail." She waved them off as she walked to her dresser. Today was going to be a long day.

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Malfoy stared blandly at his empty plate, still not hungry. No one sat down near him and no one bothered talking. The Slytherins pretended he didn't exist; they just went on with their daily lives. Hermione was sitting with the Weasleys and Potter, looking over to him to check he was eating. Which he wasn't. He caught her eye, and she nodded her head to his empty plate, but he scowled and looked away. Everything tasted badly. She was laughing at something Longbottom had said, even though he obviously had no idea what she was laughing at. No one was obsessing over her family line now, the weekend was over and it was old news. He sighed in relief, the two Gryffs didn't seem to have told anyone, though they would look over and giggle at him. It was pathetic.

The owl post came. He looked up on instinct, but didn't see his own eagle. He supposed that was a good thing. However, there was a bird he recognized, a black raven strangely enough, clutching a large black envelope. He stared at it fearfully, the ultimate barer of bad news: the Dark Lord's owl. It didn't head toward the Slytherin table, so he sighed in relief, but it instead it circled over Gryffindor table, lowering to sit of the edge of Hermione's plate. The letter was emitting a small amount of steam, and she reached over to take the envelope.

_Don't open that_, he urged her, already swinging his bag over his shoulder. She looked over, eyebrows raised at his quivering tone. _Take it and run to the lake, now!_

_Why, what is it?_ She responded, turning it over. But when she saw the green wax seal, she understood. It was stamped with the dark mark. _Oh my god_.

_Take it and run, go!_ She did as she was told, holding it between her thumb and index finger as she bolted toward the door, attracting a few stares. He followed her, catching up quickly. They only made it halfway to the lake before it burnt her fingers and she dropped it in the dirt. They leapt back in surprise when it began to float, the envelope opening as if an invisible person was doing so.

"I wish I had the opportunity to introduce myself in person, Ms. White," it echoed, as Hermione backed up against Malfoy's chest. He wrapped his arms automatically around her waist as they listened to the Dark Lord's howler. "However, certain security measures prevent that meeting. My name is Lord Voldemort, and as you already know, I know very well who you are."

"Make it stop," she whispered quietly, as he gulped.

_You know I can't_.

"The other night I had the pleasure of meeting your foster parents. The poor dears hardly lasted a minute." Hermione teared up and turned around, pressing her face into Malfoy's shirt. He stroked her hair gently, as a shiver went up his spine, reminded of the terrible D.E. meetings. "Then again, they're just muggles. But you, you're bound to be much more powerful, much harder to break." The sinister voice thundered from the tiny envelope, voicing the treat she had been fearing. "It's a pity such power will be wasted on the other side, you could go so far. However, I won't waste my breath trying to turn you to our side, you are after all the _Daughter_ of the Light." He knew, he was so going to get them! "And I'm not going to bother and try and kill you when you're at Hogwarts, but just know I'm watching you." She cried into his robes, terrified. "And if you see young Mr. Malfoy, let him know he needs to watch his back. It's not so easy to forget your past." Malfoy shivered, he knew this already. The dreams were part of the reason he avoided sleep. "Plus, Harry Potter should guard what he treasures most, for he won't have it much longer."

The floating envelope exploded in a burst of green light and noise, leaving them gasping. The silence sounded hollow in their ears. He looked down at her, seeing her once again fragile and lost like she had been the previous morning. He was surprised when she started to speak, not at all the physco babble of before.

"I told you he attacked that highway on purpose. I'd hate to know what he' s planning for Harry." He admired her strength, but knew classes would start and they would need to do some damage control.

"White, the teachers are probably coming," he whispered, expecting her to pull away. But she didn't; only burrowed further into his shoulder.

"Let them see, I just don't care about them." He didn't argue. "I should never have put that ring on."

"What ring?" he asked quietly, having never heard her speak of a ring before. She shifted guiltily, hiccupping as she calmed down.

"There was this ring that came with my adoption papers. I put it on and that created the marks. I shoved it to the bottom of my trunk." He furrowed his brow, having no idea what she was talking about. "I think when I put it on some type of enchantment made the warnings too. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault, White. None of this is. There's nothing we can do but do what comes naturally. Come on, put on a brave face and we can go to class. He can't scare us." With some difficulty, Malfoy pried her arms away from his neck, feeling how clammy her hands were. "Please let go, White, if this gets back to the Dark Lord-,"

"That what?" she interrupted, looking hurt as he pushed her away. "That you're human? That we're no longer enemies? That you have feelings for me?" He spluttered as she crossed her arms, victorious. "Don't play dumb with me, it's true and you know it, Malfoy." If he hadn't been completely mortified he would have snickered at how arrogant she was being. It was kind of cute, and yet, not.

"Excuse me?" he said, putting his hands up in front of him. "I do not _fancy_ you! Why would I, the all-powerful Draco Malfoy, have feelings for _you_? Because I don't!" He laughed nervously and looked over her shoulder at the front doors of the school, but they were closed. Her eyebrows rose and she smirked slightly, stepping forward, eliminating the space between them. Malfoy gulped, not knowing what to expect. Smiling almost seductively, Hermione laid her hand on his shoulder and pressed the other to his cheek, forcing him to look down at her.

"If you don't want to answer that question, here's a new one: why did you feel the need to kiss me last night when I was having a nightmare?" His jaw fell open. "Yes, I know about that, you woke me up." Malfoy cleared his throat; fairly uncomfortable with the way Hermione's hands were fingering his collar. She noticed, and couldn't help but shiver. _I just made Draco Malfoy nervous!_ "Don't worry. I'm just as scared as you are."

"But I care nothing about you," he protested, though it sounded like a question. Hermione blinked up at him, nodding in agreement.

"Of course you don't Malfoy," she agreed, standing on her tiptoes as she moved her hands behind his neck. "Of course you don't." She pulled him down further and kissed him lightly on the lips, hesitantly almost. He picked up the slack, moving his hands onto her hips. She sighed as she wound her arms around his neck all the way, running her hands through his silky hair. He greedily sucked on her lower lip, eagerly searching for the answer to the question he'd been thinking of for days. Was he really all alone, not trusted, and unloved? Was he, a Malfoy, doomed? Or could something in his deprived, violent, terrible life be working out? This was so wrong; she was an enemy, a bookworm, a White! But still. It fit. She cooed against his lips as he slid his tongue into her mouth. He liked having her fingers entwined in his hair.

_This is unrealistic,_ he protested feebly as she met his tongue with her own. Malfoy's shoulder bag slid down his arm to land elegantly by her feet.

_I don't care,_ she responded, pushing against him, fueled by nervous energy. This was only her second kiss, not counting the one from the previous night. Yes, Malfoy had given her her first kiss and if he found out he would never let her live it down. And this felt so good. What Parvati and Lavender had told her over the years in no way measured up to this; this was just as freeing as jumping off a cliff, of racing down a hill on her skateboard when she was eleven. And if this was _kissing_, what must _sex_ be like?

_What about security, your boyfriends, the Dark Lord?_ She growled against him, aggravated by his inability to just _kiss_ her damn it!

_I don't care, just kiss me!_ So he did, moving his hands from her hips to her robe, fumbling with the buttons. _Screw potions; let's just blow it off._ He chuckled at her forwardness, grinning contently.

_Slughorn would have an aneurysm; we can't deny him a chance to force his favorite students together, now can we?_ Needless to say, their overweight potions professor was not an image she wanted in her mind at that moment. Of course Malfoy knew this very well, and was just toying with her. _Then again, if he knew his efforts were no longer needed, he'd probably arrange us an engagement party._ She snorted, twisting her head away. To compensate, he leant over to nip her neck.

_Would you stop it? That's really cruel. _

_When have you known me to be anything other than cruel?_ He replied, _besides, if I hadn't ruined the moment, you would have leapt on me right here on the front lawn. _Then_ what would we do?_ She slapped his arm, but made no move to prevent him from rebuttoning the buttons he had unclasped in the heat of the moment without her noticing.

_I would have not leapt on you! I'm disgusted by your arrogance, Mr. Malfoy!_ Neither of them noticed the doors to the entrance hall opening. Malfoy smirked, bending over to pick up his school bag.

_What about you, Ms 'I know you like me'?_ She rolled her eyes and took his hand in her own, leading him back to school. The figure that had been watching them from the open doors swept away.

_Hey, that was different. I was right!_

_Oh you were, were you? _She glanced over at him, a little scared. He bit his lip, remembering what he had said the previous morning. 'Only an idiot would turn you down.' Hastily he added, _but I suppose you were_. She smiled again, feeling fairly relaxed. For a few minutes everything was calm. They weren't enemies whose families had a centuries long vendetta. They were just a boy and a girl who happened to like each other. But it didn't last long, as the familiar burning feeling on both their palms started up again, stronger than it had been before. Hermione jerked to a stop, looking fearfully down at her hand, at the glowing red mark. They both immediately pressed their hands together as they realized what could have caused this.

"He knows," she murmured sadly. Malfoy nodded.

_Dragons tamed while dark shadows grow_.

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**A/N: Do you like it? Isn't Draco cute? Want me to update? Then review! Please help me get to 300; I'll love you forever. Teaser?**

_"I wouldn't go so far as to call me a manwhore, but this is more of a fifth date confession."_

**Tee hee. Later!**

**Final Word Count: 2899**


	12. The Slytherin Sex God

**A/N: Sorry for the slow update, I've had a lot going on because of the end of the school year. You know the drill, finals and presentations. But here's a long chapter for you and it comes with a make out scene! But don't get all worked up by the chapter title, it's not _that_ dirty. Heh heh. Anyway, I just want to apologize for the unfortunate song choice in this chapter, I don't really like Lindsay Lohan. But the song works and it has the right tempo. Just deal with it. Sorry.**

**Plus I love my new dividers. I got bored.**

**Disclaimer: I can buy a remake time turner from WB, I can order a wand from Olivanders, and I can create a shirt that says 100 Pureblood on it, but I won't be JK Rowling. Nor will I be a witch. –Sniffle- I mean, why couldn't I be born as Hermione Granger (White)? WHY CAN'T DRACO WORSHIP ME? -sobs-**

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**Chapter 12: The Slytherin Sex God**

She was full of nervous energy. He could see her a few rows ahead of him, sandwiched between Potter and Weasley, tapping her foot against the floor as DADA droned on. Twirling her hair around her finger, she doodled without a purpose on her homework planner, mindless squiggles and dots. Her bodyguards, as he called them, exchanged nervous glances; both shocked to see their best friend not taking notes. He rolled his eyes. If only they knew.

This was the last class of the day, and afterward they were going to go to the Room of Requirement to relax. Things had taken a turn in a very dark direction, and they needed to plan together before they went to Professor McGonagall to inform her of Voldemort's Howler. They were on their own now; the Order could only do so much. But they were safe inside Hogwarts. And they were safe together.

Malfoy snickered at his double entendre. Oh yes, they were together. She'd been ready to seduce him on the front lawn that morning. But that would have to wait for a time when they both knew what they were doing. He knew that her seductiveness and desperation had been caused by fear. White had been petrified by the letter and had wanted to feel protected by someone. Malfoy knew that feeling well, but knew better what it was like to learn you weren't safe or loved. Lucius hadn't bothered comforting him when he had been 'honored' to be assigned his task. So he built walls instead, and he stopped White from doing anything she would regret later on.

A deep snicker drew Malfoy's attention to the other side of the room. Following the sound with his gaze, his eyes landed on a cocky Blaise Zabini, who obviously was laughing at White's nerves as well. To his surprise, Malfoy felt anger bubble up inside him, but he dismissed it quickly. He just didn't want anyone messing with his property, he didn't really care. Well, not really. Maybe he cared a little smidge.

White was now drumming her fingers against the desk, the soft hollow sound seeming loud in his ears. Most of the Slytherins were laughing now, but she didn't notice, being stuck too far up in her own head. It seemed his fellow snakes knew the cause of her worry, because occasionally they sent disapproving glances in her direction. It was getting irritating.

_Stop twitching, White, you've got an audience_, he reminded her, not even looking up from his incomplete notes. He noticed with a small sigh that she jumped about a foot, swiveling to glare at Zabini and his cronies. They full-out cackled, but their new professor droned on about the unforgivable curses, an interesting subject that the teacher made an unadulterated bore.

_Sorry_, White responded. He didn't speak further. Now self-conscious about what she was doing, she straightened her posture, folding her hands in her lap. The girl sent a glance in his direction, seeking his approval. He nodded.

She had potential, he realized, to be a very powerful witch. As he had noticed previously, she was pretty in a rough, less conventional way, and if she ever got that still-flyaway hair under control, she really would be beautiful. As he had said before, she was rich, powerful when it came to magic, talented, and quite popular around the school. Though Voldemort was as scary as hell, he knew that from experience, he also knew that if she were ever in a situation where she had to duel him, she would last at least five minutes longer than most. Not that she would actually survive, even Potter hadn't actually _beaten_ him yet, he'd just escaped. There had been only one person with enough power to defeat Voldemort.

Malfoy stiffened in guilt. It wasn't his guilt to have, but it was his to share. Dumbledore's death would forever ride on his conscience, though he usually managed to ignore it. As Voldemort had said, it wasn't easy to forget your past. Perhaps he would talk to White about his problems after all, that was what she was there for. And she would listen without judging him, she was good like that.

The bell rang, and he hung back, buttoning up the snaps of his bag with unnecessary care. She was doing the same thing and he overheard her telling Potter and Weasley to go ahead, she'd be fine. They sent nervous glances in his direction, which he scowled at, but they left without any protest. It seemed she had talked to them the previous day, since neither of them had bothered him once. Their professor left without even a good-bye, leaving them alone. Immediately White's proud and poised front disappeared. Throwing her bag down on her desk, frowning furiously, she turned to him and yelled, "This is so difficult!"

He silenced the room with a flick of his wand, before turning back to her, biting his lip at her quickening breath. "Don't faint on me, White," he said softly, sitting down on his desk. She joined him, fidgeting with the edge of her skirt. "We should be ready, it's true, but we can't let fear affect our schoolwork, and we can't let anyone see. If you look unafraid, then he'll think he's doing something wrong. To survive, you need to put up a front around Slytherins, as well as Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws."

White looked at him sadly, aware that he knew this from experience. She leant her head on his shoulder, feeling tired. He twitched, but didn't push her away; he just wasn't used to this type of closeness.

"It's just so hard to act like nothing's wrong. It eats a person alive." _Such as me,_ he noted as she continued. "I just want to jump up and fix the situation, but I don't know how."

"You just need a good distraction," he said calmly, wondering what they could do. Obviously she thought he was insinuating something, because she lifted her head up, her face showing her worry.

"That's not what I mean. I'm not as sick-minded as you make me out to be."

She raised an eyebrow in doubt, before saying, "What about all that 'Slytherin Sex God' stuff I heard from Parvati and Lavender?"

He snorted, looking down at his nails. "I wouldn't have thought you would believe anything those two sluts say, they only contort little rumors into in-depth stories."

She scoffed as he lay on his back across the desk, staring up at her.

"Rumors start somewhere, Malfoy. So are you the famous manwhore everyone says you are or not?"

He laughed at her colorful vocabulary and the disgusted look on her face. She was such a prude, but he found it cute, so unlike the trampy Slytherin girls who used to cling to his arm, lusting after his money. Well, look where he was now, wearing robes an inch too short and with absolutely no pocket money. "I wouldn't go so far as to call me a manwhore, but this is more of a fifth date confession," he drawled softly, closing his eyes.

She cooed predictably. "So we'll have a fifth date?"

Feeling the conversation was getting too fluffy for his taste, he spat, "If we don't die first."

Malfoy could practically feel her stiffen. She sighed and lay down next to him, her legs falling off the edge of the table as she snuggled against him. Surprised but content, he let his arm drift loosely around her shoulders, blinking as her fuzzy hair brushed his chin. He didn't know why this felt so _good_. His tattoo tingled, but he knew he was imagining it. "Alright, fine, White, but if this gets back to anyone I swear I will burn your bookshelf." She nodded, excited about learning one of his secrets, as well as the fact that he trusted her enough to tell her. "My father paid Pansy to start those rumors. He said it would make me more mysterious and that it would aid me in battle. Something about having women from both sides attracted to me."

She twisted her head to look up at him, mouth open. "Does that mean you're still a-,"

"Virgin? Hard to believe, right?" She giggled and smacked him on the arm, as he smirked lightly, running his hand up her arm. She squirmed, ticklish. He tucked that information away.

"I'm relieved actually," she confided softly, drumming her fingers against his chest. She looked nervous again, her face pensive. "Your reputation precedes you, and from what I've heard from Pavi and Lavi, you're this incredible guy that would be too much for me to handle, and Harry and Ron kept insinuating things and I've never even kissed a guy before you."

His eyes widened as she ranted, not watching what her hands were doing as her fingers slid between two of his buttons, grazing his scars. He'd stolen her first kiss and then told her it sucked! How cruel was he? "And I didn't know how to keep up with you or how to keep you happy and I'm not even ready for that! But I'm so relieved that that won't be a problem because I really like you and I don't want to lose you." She stopped abruptly, closing her eyes as she relaxed against him, leaving him winded.

"That's a lot of information to get in twenty seconds," he said softly, happy that she did in fact care about him. They lay quietly for a few minutes as White recovered, before he added, "And I don't expect anything. Honestly, it's not a problem." She smiled gratefully, before tilting her neck to press an innocent kiss to his lips.

"Thank you."

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Malfoy pulled her tight against him, her curves merging with his like a glove, as she took a step back. He mirrored it, readjusting his hold on her waist as he noticed she was setting him up for a spin. Following her lead, something he wouldn't let anyone else do, he twirled her quickly, highly amused by their mix of a foxtrot and normal grinding. But whatever kept her from breathing regularly was fine by him. Even the weird Muggle radio station she had insisted on playing. He couldn't help but wonder why her electronic Muggle radio even worked in Hogwarts. Perhaps she had required it of the Room of Requirement?

_Saturday, stepping into the club._

_The music makes me want to tell the DJ turn it up._

_I feel the energy all around_

_And my body can't stop moving to the sound._

Malfoy couldn't help but wonder how the singer could talk so fast, but he quickly dismissed the thought as White let out a soft groan as she slid down his front, him pushing down on his shoulders like he had once seen in a Muggle movie. He was winging it at this point; his training was in classical ballroom dancing, not in jazz or Muggle hip-hop. But he copied White and didn't have a problem.

_But I can tell that you're watching me_

_And you're probably gonna write what you didn't see._

_Well, I just need a little space to breathe,_

_Can you please respect my privacy?_

Malfoy quickly decided he liked this song, not only for its fast beat but also for how familiar the lyrics were to him. Plus he liked having White run her hands suggestively down his chest, before whipping him around and pulling him with her. It was nice to see the stressed-out bookworm really look natural and comfortable. Not to mention sweaty and totally sexy.

_Why can't you just let me do_

_The things I want to do?_

_I just wanna be me_

_I don't understand why_

_Would you want to bring me down?_

_I'm only having fun_

_I'm gonna live my life, but not the way you want me to_.

There was a glint in her eye that he found unsettling. She wasn't going to hurt him, but the passionate flame in her eye meant she was up to something. It was kind of funny. There really was only one thing it could be: lust. But Hermione Granger had never acted on lust. But she'd been afraid. And Hermione White had no reason to be afraid.

_I'm tired of rumors starting_

_I'm sick of being followed_

_I'm tired of people lying_

_Saying what they want about me_

_You and everybody else, kid,_ Malfoy thought to himself as he twirled White around, then back in again. This was fun. And White was smirking, flashing big pearly whites as she laughed. He smirked too, not feeling a small flicker across his tattoo.

_Why can't they back up off me?_

_Why can't they let me live?_

_I'm gonna do it my way_

_Take this for just what it is._

The glint was annoying him, it was as if it was repeating 'And I'm not even ready for that!' over and over in his head. She pressed her back to his front, twisting her head so her breath flickered passed his ear. He flinched, but placed his hands on her hips as required, deciding he liked Muggle music. But this song was turning on switches he didn't think she would appreciate. Though her incessant panting and jerking movements were making things very hard to control. 'And I'm not even ready for that!' He wasn't even listening to the second verse.

_Here we are, back up in the club_

_People snapping pictures_

_Don't you think they'd get enough?_

_I just wanna be all over the floor _

_And throw my hands up in the air to the beat like (what)_

What on earth would happen if the school saw the two of them now? Talk about the odd couple; the shadow dwelling, rogue Death Eater, and the previously Muggleborn bookworm now grinding against him. Weasley and Potter would literally kill him. But what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. She turned around again, taking his hands and leading him into a waltz around the giant glass room, and he watched as their reflection flickered against the reds and oranges of the setting sun outside. What a strange night this would be. White winked at him.

_I've got to say respectfully_

_I would love it if you would take the cameras off of me_

_Cause I just want a little room to breathe_

_Can you please respect my privacy?_

He really, really wanted to kiss her now, throw her up against the glass and kiss her as the sun set. The guys in cheesy books always did that. But this didn't ring true for some reason. Who was this girl? Granger would have either bolted from the room upon seeing him it or cursed him, but she was gone. White was here now, powerful and bossy and pushy. But she was insecure and had nightmares too. He wasn't sure where the line lay. But she was just so _cute_.

_Why can't you just let me do_

_The things I want to do?_

_I just wanna be me_

_I don't understand why_

_Would you wanna bring me down?_

_I'm only having fun_

_I'm gonna live my life, but not the way you want me to_

Eh, screw it. Since when did he care about boundaries anyway? She was the one grinding against him. They were moving again, her leading, around the perimeter. He took his chance as she spun, forcing her to stop before pushing her backwards, positioning his palm so she hit it, not the wall, with the back of her head. She blinked at him, her eyes suddenly wide and innocent, before he leaned down and kissed her, pressing against her. She froze momentarily, before entwining her fingers into his hair, just the way he liked it. He would have snickered at the irony, thinking briefly of Parvati and Lavender.

_I'm tired of rumors starting_

_I'm sick of being followed_

_I'm tired of people lying_

_Saying what they want about me_

She loved the erotic feeling of the glass against her back and thighs, and how Malfoy was enveloping her, taller and wider and curled around her. And he was kissing her with such passion! It wasn't gentle, it was… hungry. And she liked it. Hermione grinned against his lips, her fingers some how getting between them to unclasp his school robe. It fell to the floor, landing in a heap. He quickly undid hers, but it was smushed against the wall behind her back and hung limply from her shoulders. She wriggled a little bit to let it fall, but he only pressed against her harder. She gasped, and he quickly darted his tongue into her warm mouth, immediately causing her to settle.

_Why can't they back up off me?_

_Why can't they let me live?_

_I'm gonna do this my way_

_Take this for just what it is_

This time there was no protest on Malfoy's part, only reluctance to let her move. She pushed him away briefly, leaving him breathless and disappointed, only to tug his vest over his head and pull him back by his tie. He smirked; maybe those rumors his father spread weren't that far from the truth? Her sweater quickly joined his on the floor. She gasped as he dipped lower to nip her neck, pulling open a button to get better access to her soft skin. Hermione grinned at how unlike her this was, but the thought was quickly ignored, as more buttons were unclasped, until her shirt hung open. Remembering she had chosen today to wear her faded cotton sports bra instead of something flattering and possibly made of lace, she blushed, but instead of focusing on anything below her shoulders, Malfoy just continued attacking her neck, his lips slowly working lower onto her breastbone.

_I just need to free my mind (my mind)_

_Just wanna dance and have a good time (good time)_

Even though they were already breathing a mile a minute, it seemed like they couldn't get air fast enough, which made kissing quite interesting. Malfoy slid his knee between her legs to steady her, as he moved his hands just above her hips, on her bare skin. She squirmed, but not to push him away, only to slide her fingers between them and start on his shirt buttons. However, she had some difficulty, as his mouth working its way down to her cleavage distracted her considerably. He chuckled and pulled away to help her, smiling as her fingers brushed against hers. She looked up and into his eyes, and felt suddenly shy. She froze, completely terrified of where it was heading. Hermione wasn't ready.

_I'm tired of rumors (rumors)_

_Followed (followed, followed, followed, followed, followed)_

_What they want of me_

_Why can't they (they, they, they, they, they) let me live?_

_Take this for just what it is_

He could see it in her eyes, the fear, and the uneasiness. Although he really didn't want to stop, he knew better than to push it. He didn't feel like getting slapped. And he knew better than to mess this up. So instead he reversed the path of his hands and rebuttoned her buttons tenderly, as she did the same for him. He kissed her innocently, before leaning over and plucking her sweater from his, before guiding it over her shoulders as if she were a small child. She smiled appreciatively, then took his hand and led him back to their rooms, making sure to turn off the radio as she passed it.

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**A/N: Sorry, that's as far as I could write without panicking and ducking into my closet with my laptop. Seriously, I just can't write smut, I'm not old enough. What would my friends say! Merlin, I would go from a Harry Potter nerd to a pervert. But that's not my opinion. Maybe in a few chapters I'll get up the nerve. Yes, in a few chapters. But not now. Sorry.**

**I've got a oneshot challenge posted on my blog if anyone is interested. Rules are on my homepage; click the link on my member profile. Also on my blog are more teasers! Tee hee. I better go, but not without a teaser.**

'_DRACO! YOU NEED TO HELP ME! HE'S DYING. I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!' _

**Ok, it's not what you think. Well, some of you might know, but it doesn't matter. It's cool. My god, I'm delirious. Must go sleep. Toodles!**

**Final Word Count: 3596**


	13. What Haunts Us

**A/N: Yes, I know that updates are coming slower and slower, and that I've been writing too many OneShots, but I'm leaving for camp tomorrow! Don't panic, I can still update from there, but they will be coming slower and might not be as long. Don't worry! I'm not leaving you, and I am determined to finish this story! **

**And I know this story is starting to get depressing, but it's more interesting from now on. And don't freak out about Hermione's dreams. You don't have to worry about that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and most likely never will. –Tear- **

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**Chapter 13: What Haunts Us**

Malfoy frowned as he stood in front of Hermione's packed bookshelf, curling his hand around the flame of his candle to direct the weak light away from her sleeping figure. He was quickly learning that the young Gryff had enough nightmares for the both of them, and through their link, he experienced them second hand. After a week of resting and reading on her couch every night, he discovered that it was easier to run on caffeine than to sleep and be woken up by her moaning about Potter falling ill and him choosing the wrong side. It filled him with bad feelings and paranoia, and tonight was no different.

Just as he had selected a book on rare plants given to her by Neville Longbottom, Hermione kicked one of her red and gold pillows off her bed and moaned frantically, though she didn't actually make a sound. He sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for it to start. This had become routine. He let the book drop and lay down on his back, letting her in.

_He's not moving, Draco, why isn't he moving? His eyes, they're blank! Why are they blank? Why isn't he getting up! Help me, Draco!_

Oh great, it was one of those nightmares. These were the worst, the classic worry, doubt dreams that she never seemed to remember the next morning. But they were hard for him to forget. He pulled his knees to his chest and let her whisper hoarsely into his ear, her voice shocked and scared.

_Please help me! Why aren't you moving, this isn't you! Take that mask off; you're not one of them!_

Her voice was getting louder and increasing in volume, and he breathed deeply, repeating to himself that it was only a dream. Just the nightmare of a teenage girl, worried about her boyfriend. He didn't agree with Potter and his morals, but he wasn't one of the Death Eaters. This wouldn't become their reality.

_DRACO! NO, YOU NEED TO HELP ME! HE'S DYING, I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU!_

Malfoy flinched, feeling his eyes glass over as he shifted to face the back of the couch. She was almost finished, but he knew that the silence would be harder to face than her disturbing nightmares.

_PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!_

Silence. It sounded hollow in his ears, only broken by the shifting of the bed as she sat up in shock, her breathing ragged as she struggled to remember what had woken her up. Eventually she lay back down and closed her eyes again, unaware that the boy she was slowly falling in love with was shivering in self-loathing and shame only a few meters away.

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Hermione curled up in an armchair by the fire; a textbook leant up against her bent knees. Taking advantage of her only free period on Wednesdays, she studied Arithmancy in silence. Malfoy was off doing Merlin knew what, but she was grateful for the lack of distraction. Although she was thrilled to have a boyfriend, however secret, she found it remarkably hard to concentrate on numbers and homework when he was around. Hermione blinked fatigue out of her eyes.

She hadn't been sleeping well either, contrary to Malfoy's belief. She would wake up in the middle of the night, her heart racing and pillows lying scattered on the floor, with no memory of what had roused her. She was always reluctant to go back to sleep, in fear that it would happen again. And it always did, at some point during the night. Or if not that night, then it was guaranteed for the next one. It made her want to go and snuggle up next to Malfoy on the sofa, but she never did. Maybe because she didn't want him to know how much a simple nightmare she couldn't even remember bothered her.

Malfoy had been acting oddly too, more distant, as if ashamed of something. But what did he have to be ashamed of? She knew he was a Death Eater, what could be worse? Her eyes filmed over again as she yawned, trying to memorize a pattern. She was fighting a losing battle against the urge to catnap. Surely it wouldn't matter if she just fell asleep, she only had Potions after this, and that was in about an hour and a half. It wouldn't hurt anyone, and Merlin knew she didn't actually _need_ to study.

Hermione let her book drop to the floor and lent her head against the armrest.

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Malfoy was back in the Owlery for reasons he couldn't fathom. The place smelled, it was dirty, and he absolutely hated the dusty layer that coated each windowsill. But he always seemed to drift back there anyway.

Why he wasn't with White at all was no mystery. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with her! She was all he'd ever wanted in a friend or a girlfriend, but he couldn't look at her, sit next to her, or even work with her without imagining her in the middle of a battlefield, or a dark clearing, surrounded by Death Eaters, himself one of them. It was so easy to see, with Potter on his back at her feet, Voldemort chuckling at her impending doom, and the guilt that would flourish inside him when she cried, glaring accusingly at him. He could imagine her yelling, pleading, screaming in agony when Voldemort had decided she wasn't amusing anymore and put her under Crucio instead.

So he forced it to the back of his mind, not even stopping to wonder why he cared so much. He was incapable of love, he was a Malfoy! He may be a blood traitor, but he couldn't deny that he was his father's son. And he couldn't change the mark on his arm. But he still wanted to protect White; he did feel responsible for her. And he wanted to believe that she was never surrounded in the middle of a battlefield, alone and scared and in hysterics, he would take off his mask and give up everything for her. If she loved him like it was prophesized she would, he knew it was only right.

_Draco!_ Hermione yelled, snapping him out of his revere. Blinking, he responded harshly,

_What?_ But she didn't answer. Worried, he slid off the windowsill and stood up, a little paranoid. _White?_

_Draco, no! PLEASE!_ She couldn't be sleeping; it was four o'clock in the afternoon! Was she in danger? Had the Dark Lord finally caught up with them? Was anyone there to protect her? Fueled by fear and dread, he sped out of the Owlery and weaved through dozens of shortcuts that all seemed to blur together. He wasn't going to let anyone take her away from him, especially since she was the only person who respected him and his privacy. But he slowed down as she continued, annoyed by her next yell. _Help me! Harry's ill, he's not breathing!_ It seemed she was sleeping. As if he didn't get enough of this at night. He scowled at his scuffed sneakers, sighing with each step up the spiral staircase that would take him directly to his entrance. _Why are you doing this? NO! PUT YOUR WAND DOWN!_ Malfoy gulped. This was new; he had never raised his wand to her before. The worst he had ever done was stand silently and not protect her, but never actually hurt her. He sped back up, imagining how fitfully she would be sleeping. _Stop! This isn't you! Fight it! FIGHT IT! _

Malfoy tore around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of the blank wall covering his tunnel. He spat the password and threw himself into the passage, cutting his hand on a rock in the process. On the other side, he rolled out and landed on his back, before standing up quickly. Automatically, he saw a stressed looking Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Lupin, as well as a flustered and confused Professor Snape, all standing around her bed. White was curled up above the covers, still in her uniform, with her whole body shaking. Malfoy blinked innocently at them, only to cringe when White screamed, DON'T DO THIS, I **LOVE** YOU!

Snape looked Malfoy over from head to toe, frowning at his godson's emaciated body and discolored skin, the side effects of hunger and exhaustion. Lupin was unbothered by Malfoy's sudden appearance in the room, and continued to stare at the whimpering girl.

"I trust you know how to stop this, Mr. Malfoy?" he said, his voice obviously strained. Malfoy nodded. "Well, by all means, go right ahead. We haven't been able to still her." The teenage boy sent a nervous glance at his harassed-looking godfather, but the older man only nodded. Next, he looked to the headmistress, who glared, waving her hands to urge him to continue. He gulped, looking back down at his trembling girlfriend, who had firmly shut her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the side of the bed, ignoring the fact that her skirt was riding up on her thighs. He could tell his teachers were nervous about what he was going to do, and knowing this, he saw that his usual way of waking her up from nightmares, playing sleeping beauty, would not be met with applause. She let out a shattered scream that only he had the pleasure of hearing, and rolled over onto her stomach, her arm flung into his lap in the process. They all winced.

"Draco, this is important. Do whatever you have to," Snape said, his usually harsh voice alarmingly soft. He nodded, before leaning over to take off his shoes, fully aware that White would hex him for getting dirt on her bed.

Malfoy knew that White would only wake up on two occasions. The fist was if she felt safe enough to wake up, thus the reason why she had woken up when he had kissed her, or when the dream ended. But going by her constant screams, it was obvious that her nightmare was nowhere near over, so he turned to the first option. He also knew that White would never speak to him again if he kissed her in front of their professors, so instead he lay down next to her, on top of the of the covers as was she, and wrapped his arms around her waist, not waking her up. He shifted her so he was on his back with her leaning her head against his upper chest, and slowly stroked his hand up and down her spine, closing his own eyes. The three teachers all exchanged wary glances, but said nothing as Hermione's jerking movements stilled until she began to smile sleepily. They all smiled as well, excluding Snape, who grimaced, and Malfoy rolled her back onto her side and sat up.

"She gave Messurs Potter and Weasley quite a scare," McGonagall whispered softly. "I suggested you stay closer to her lest these nightmares continue." He blinked as Snape cleared his throat. The two adult Gryffindors took this as their cue to leave. They exited via the common room, leaving the lone Slytherins eyeing each other warily. The older man sighed, his stone cold façade fading as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Malfoy watched, half happy to see him again, half scared at what his presence could mean.

"Draco, we've got a problem," he said as he sank into one of the armchairs that circled the fireplace. That was never a good sign; Snape preferred to loom over people as a display of power. "I've tried to stall it, but I don't think I can any longer." Malfoy's eyebrows knitted together as he waited. "The Dark Lord knows about you and Ms. White, and in the near future, could probably summon you. I don't see a way to prevent it." Malfoy bit down on his tongue as he considered what this meant, and what his options were. He couldn't actually see any. Knowing his godfather was perhaps the only other person in the world who would listen to him, besides White, he asked aloud,

"What can we do? He'd kill me on sight."

Snape, relieved that the teenager was actually talking, answered, "There are a few options. The first is that you go, and you face the consequences." He let that news settle in before continuing. "Or you could join the Order of the Phoenix and play both sides, as I do." Malfoy snarled at the floor as he wished his girlfriend weren't lying next to him. Her mere presence was guilting him into it. "I know that isn't very appealing to you, but we could also protect you, and tuck you into a safe house. You can't die, Draco, and either that or an Imperious curse is what awaits you if you go on doing nothing." Malfoy looked down at Hermione, sleeping peacefully, her hair splayed across the pillows. He couldn't leave her, but he wouldn't go back to his father. And yet he couldn't run sniveling to Potter and his team, when they would doubt his loyalties even if he put his life on the line for them. He wouldn't go pleading for acceptance like some Hufflepuff.

"Can I decide in a day or two?" he asked instead, his eyes never leaving White.

Snape sighed, but nodded. "You're playing with fire, Draco," he said gently. The teenager looked up, a little startled. Snape observed him sadly.

"What?"

"Whatever this is," Snape gestured between him and White, "It's playing with fire, especially now. The Dark Lord knows, and if you go to him when summoned, you'll have a hard time explaining. You're making her more of a target than she would be normally, even with this pureblood business."

Choosing to ignore this thinly-veiled warning, Malfoy interrupted, "If you don't mind me asking, how did he find out anyway?"

"You were spotted by Blaise Zabini, who automatically went to his master like the sick little servant he is," Snape responded with a cruel grimace. Malfoy winced at his own stupidity. "Honestly, Draco, what are you doing? If Potter and Weasley figure out that she's your latest tryst-"

Malfoy cut him off, his voice low, "You should know I have never had any trysts in my life, sir. White is not a tryst." Snape arched a belittling eyebrow, his lip curling with a mix of amusement and disgust. Malfoy smoothed down the covers under White's legs, and tugged her skirt further down her waist, covering her previously-exposed upper thighs.

"Then what is it, Draco? What's going on?"

The blond shrugged dispassionately, sighing from exhaustion. "I'm not even sure myself. I'm not in love with her or anything purely Gryffindor like that. But I worry about her, and I know things would be a lot worse were she not here, unharmed." Malfoy looked away from White to find Snape frowning, seeming out of place in the red and gold décor.

"I'm not enough of a fool to deny fate anyway," he grumbled, standing up. "And as unoriginal as this may sound, watch your back, Draco. You don't have many friends right now, other than _White_," he sneered briefly, "And myself." He tightened his traveling cloak around him, before giving Malfoy a final nod and changing into his animagus form. He followed the other professors out of the room with a flutter of silky wings. Malfoy was unimpressed by his godfather's ability, having known of it before, and instead of gasping dramatically, he merely sunk back onto the bed beside White.

Once again Draco Malfoy found himself without answers: about the Order, about the Dark Lord, and about White. He just didn't know what to do. On one hand, he had what White would want him to do, which was join the Order and aid Potter in his battle. But did he really want to be on a team where he wasn't valued or trusted by his own co-workers? They hadn't believed him over the summer, they didn't believe him now, and wouldn't believe him in the future. Even McGonagall didn't trust him, and still regarded him with suspicion. Such a life was fine for Snape, but he was used to lurking in foreign territory, having lived his whole life that way. Malfoy didn't even feel comfortable using White's bathroom!

Hiding in a safe house was out of the question. He couldn't imagine living in a cottage somewhere sipping tea while he knew that White was off fighting. But going without a plan and protection was a death wish. And they'd make him speak. If they made him do so, he would probably end up saying more than he should, such as how much he worried about White's safety, and how much it pained him to experience her fears and not be able to say anything.

White coughed, her hand curling into a weak fist. He looked down at her, his face softening as it always did when he saw her innocent expression. He preferred her like this, quiet and unbothered. While they were close during the day, they still argued, and she could still fire off insults and comebacks as they had the previous year, when they were still Granger and Malfoy, opposites in every way. Their relationship was still rocky, since they were both stubborn and full of pride. There was a line that they didn't feel comfortable crossing during conversation, and aside form the two warnings that they had endured, they hadn't discussed the Dark Lord, the war, or alliances. She knew he was a Death Eater, he knew she didn't approve. There was nothing else to say. After all, Malfoy knew she would never completely forget the six years of humiliation and torture he had put her through.

Scowling, he glanced at the clock. They had about ten minutes until they were expected in Potions. He sighed, imagining Slughorn's newest scheme to force them together. It would be worth having the pompous old loon catch them snogging in his storerooms after hours if it would get him to stop twittering about how well they worked together. His goal of flying under the radar was coming close to being just a far-off dream, between White's nightmares and Slughorn's matchmaking attempts. He could already see him forcing them under mistletoe in December. With that final random thought, Malfoy placed his hand on White's shoulder and gave her a small shake.

"White, wake up," he said blandly, forcing all thoughts of Death Eater meetings out of his head. Her eyes opened quickly, but she smiled sluggishly, indicating that as usual, she had not remembered the Death Eaters who haunted her dreams.

"Hey," she whispered, sitting up. She blinked as she took in the familiar room around her. "Didn't I fall asleep in the common room?"

Looking down at his feet as he slid off the bed, while bending over to put his shoes back on, he lied, "Potter and co moved you in here so you could sleep undisturbed. I just came by to pick up my things for Potions."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his forced tone, and she flattened her skirt self-consciously before asking, "Is something bothering you, Malfoy?"

He paused, considering confiding in her all of his secrets and worries. But as he leant on the bed post and just looked at her, in her school uniform and rumpled Gryffindor tie, with concerned eyes and slightly parted lips, he realized she wouldn't understand. She was too innocent, even after all she'd been through, and he didn't want to have her know about the curses used to create all of his scars, or the murders he'd seen, or the pain on his mother's face as she stood by the parlor window, waiting for Lucius to return. He didn't want her to know of that, or experience that, or become just another wife hovering uncertainly by the window, or sleeping fitfully as the other side of her bed lay cold and empty. He wanted her to remain just as she was, not scared, not scarred, and completely pure. In every way.

"Nothing. Now come on or we'll be late for class."

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**A/N: And so it begins. Next chapter things get bad. And yet sooo good, I'm writing it now. Heh heh, might have to boot up the rating for the next few chapters. Teaser?**

"_Hermione," she whispered, her voice shaken and hoarse. Malfoy blinked. "My name is _Hermione_."_

**And I'll give you a second one to make up for the wait.**

"_This isn't enough for what you've done. You must come when called, Malfoy, or else your pretty little pureblooded girlfriend gets the same treatment. Personally, I don't think you would want someone else to get the honor of taking away her virginity, would you?"_

**Ha ha, scared you with that one. Next time: Blaise comes back in a big way, Hermione practices healing spells, and our star-crossed lovers learn a new type of dancing, tee hee. **

**And you should know this is coming live from my camp. So ha. Laters! And review!**

**Final Word Count: 3651**


	14. The Prime Victim

**A/N: Ok, this chapter is huge. Really fricken huge, for my standards at least. I suppose I've had longer, but it still seems really giant. Trust me on that fact. **

**Even though this chapter is completely cut down, it still has enough adult content to bump the rating up to M. I apologize if you're not into that type of thing, but I'm sure you could skip parts of it. Same goes for people who want more, but there's just no way I could do it. I was actually writing this at camp, and every time I would think of writing something even slightly sexier - someone would pop up and ask me to play foursquare in the atrium. Awkward much?**

**And hopefully I'll get more reviews this time around. I'm not complaining, but getting to 900 for Magnetic Attraction kind of went to my head. –Giggle-**

**And I apologize for the long wait, I'm really sorry. What with camp and everything, as well as summer homework, everything just piles up. But from now on I know what I'm doing, so hopefully the wait will slow.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I own a Harry Potter doll, it's true, but I do not profit from the works of J.K. Rowling.**

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**Chapter 14: The Prime Victim**

The next morning, Malfoy still had no idea. He didn't want to think about the war or DE meetings, or Professor Snape. The teenager was stressed and weary, and just wanted to sleep. But sleep was still out of the question. Hermione still had nightmares that grew steadily worse as September turned to the cold chill of October, and Malfoy's worry, changed to denial. Professor Snape was not in contact with his godson, nor was Professor McGonagall, so it was relatively easy to pretend the possibility of being summoned was nonexistent, especially with White remaining perfectly unaware to his troubles.

However, White was another problem. Malfoy found himself staring at her during class, a few rows ahead of him, or watching her across the great hall, from his place at the end of the Slytherin table. He worried about her safety, and the way she never seemed to notice as Blaise Zabini whispered behind his hand when she passed in the hallways, always sporting a lecherous grin. Although he was never summoned anyway, Malfoy knew the Dark Lord was planning something, and that White was the prime victim, ignorant and too proud to ask for help. Even when he didn't have the same class with her, the blond followed no more than ten yards behind her, just to be sure that he arrived to her next class safely. He honestly didn't know what was happening to him. Draco Malfoy, _protective?_

Apparently so. He was quickly discovering he would do anything for his girlfriend; be late to class, spend hours in their rooms to keep her company as she did her homework, and dance in the Room of Requirement when she was stressed to the snapping point. He talked to her about the study things Potter and Weasley didn't, listened to her fears and nerves, and endured her nightmares with her each night. Halfway through October, he let her push him farther than anyone before.

It was after one of her nasty dreams, this one of him actually _crucioing_ her while the Dark Lord laughed brutally, that he listened for the sound of her rolling over to go back to sleep. But instead, she slid out from under the quilt and padded across the carpet. He feigned sleep, closing his eyes and nestling his head into his pillow, expecting her to go to the bathroom and merely glance at him as she passed by. The creak of the door opening never came, however, and instead Malfoy felt his blankets shifting behind him. White crawled in beside him. Shocked, he turned his head to send her a questioning stare, to find her looking nervous and scared. She molded her front into his back and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, before pressing her face into his bare shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly, too exhausted to speak mentally, and more confused than anything else. She was trembling, and it was then that he realized she was probably nervous from waking up with no idea why each night. "White?"

"Hermione," she whispered, her voice shaken and hoarse. He blinked. "My name is _Hermione_." A little stunned, Malfoy didn't argue, and only turned over so he was on his back. Immediately she rested her head against his bare chest, as he moved his arms to circle her small body. It struck him how delicate she seemed, her breath coming in pants against his jagged skin, and how easy it would be to break her. Malfoy frowned and pulled her closer, suddenly very afraid for both of them. Afraid for her vulnerability, afraid for his pariah status, and afraid for the feeling that was stirring deep inside him. He didn't know what to call it, or perhaps he did but he didn't dare think its name. Not yet at least, when they were still feeling around in dark corners for hope and reassurance.

"_Hermione_ then," he whispered soothingly, as a tiny tear fell onto his stomach. Rubbing his hand in circles over her back, he added, "Just go to sleep, I'll protect you." White's tear was her last, that night, and with a quivering voice, she bent her head up and asked,

"You promise?" Malfoy felt like he did back in first year again, not knowing what threats he was facing and what turns he should take. Her lustrous brown eyes were pleading with him to be all she needed, all she would ever need. _Don't hurt me._

"I promise." A few minutes later she was dead asleep, with no nightmares to speak of. He frowned slightly as he looked down at her innocent face, her mouth parted over a particularly nasty scar by pure coincidence. Malfoy pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering the words he had only begun to realize the truth in. "I will always protect you, Hermione."

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Malfoy was correct in thinking Blaise Zabini was a problem. Yet, since he was being so careful when it came to White's safety, he was a bit slack in his own, and still wandered fearlessly during free periods and after curfew. The day after White's night with him on the couch, Malfoy was in a fairly good mood. She was touching him more than necessary, a hand on his arm as they left their rooms, feet touching under the table she favored in the library, leaning against him slightly during Potions, in which they still were partnered. Needless to say, it pleased him to no end. She really did trust him, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Hands thrust in his pockets, he made the familiar trek to the Owlery, passing the library. It was nearing curfew and the halls were pretty much empty, but he wasn't bothered. He winked at a few female portraits that he sauntered past, checking to see if he still had it. He did!

Out of no where, a body binding spell flew at him from behind, striking him in the back. He automatically fell forwards, his arms at his sides. With a jolt, he realized someone was going to do what he'd done to Potter a little over a year ago on the Hogwarts Express. Sure enough, someone kicked him in the stomach, causing him to flip onto his back. Actually terrified, he looked up to see Blaise, smirking with barely contained glee, along with Crabbe and Goyle. With a wave of nausea, it became clear to him that Blaise had replaced him in ever sense. He now held the place in the Dark Lord's ranks, he had the new suave and sexy reputation with the girls who had previously flocked to Malfoy, and he was the unofficial Head of Slytherin.

Malfoy really had changed, just because of White. Just as predicted. But he would think about that later. He had bigger problems.

"Blood traitor," Blaise snarled, aiming his wand just between Malfoy's eyes. He watched its tip, knowing quite well the pain and terror that wand could cause. Crabbe and Goyle grunted their agreement to their leader, before they both proceeded to kick him more, his shoulder, his head, his knees, and his groin. Malfoy didn't make a sound, thanks to Blaise's silencing charm. All through the teenager's beating, which quickly evolved to punching, Blaise kept his wand level. "That's all you are, Malfoy, a filthy fucking blood traitor. Bedding the Gryffindor, holding her while she cries, I've seen you together in the library. It's obvious, and it's only a matter of time before Potter and Weasley see it too." Blaise's voice was fading in and out like a badly spelled radio, as Malfoy blinked away stars. He was hopeless, with no way to defend himself.

With a jerk of his head, Blaise sent away Crabbe and Goyle, who sulked out with matching disappointed scowls. They obviously thought they were being denied a treat. He crouched down next to his unmoving friend, and looked bitterly over his fallen victim. Malfoy had a cut on his lip, bruises on his legs, shoulders and chest, a black eye, and though Blaise didn't know it, a handful of reopened and bleeding scars on his stomach. For a moment Malfoy misread the displeased form on his fellow Slytherin's face, and thought perhaps he didn't like what he had to do. But his hopes were shattered miserably when Blaise muttered,

"This isn't enough, not for what you've done. You must come when he calls you, Malfoy, or else your pretty little pureblooded girlfriend gets the same treatment. Personally, I don't think you would want someone else to get the honor of taking her virginity, would you?" Malfoy winced, his breathing shallow. Blaise's frown turned to a viscious smirk at this sign of mixed horror and pain. "No, I didn't think you would like that. Laceratis."

He writhed in pain, a small pool of blood forming under his back. Finally, he blacked out.

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About twenty minutes after Blaise announced he was pleased and swept off to Slytherin common room, Hermione was on her Friday night head girl rounds. The young witch was trying hard not to think of anything other than schoolwork, and had forced the thought of her boyfriend out of her mind. She had been thinking about Malfoy far too often, and had been meaning to do some research about their prophecy for a while. It seemed Malfoy had most of it memorized and she wanted to be the same level.

She hummed 'Weasley Is Our King' under her breath, watching as her beam of wand light traveled across the floor. It was hard for her to believe that it had been Malfoy who had invented that song, but her Malfoy was different. 'Dragon's turned while dark shadows grow,' right? Anyway, he was nice and considerate when she was involved, and for that matter, it didn't really matter anyway. So far they hadn't gone much further than second base and cuddling, if you included the previous night.

Hermione shivered. The previous night had been haunting and yet wonderful at the same time. She was sick of waking up terrified of unknown dangers, and had just wanted to feel safe. Sleeping next to, or more like on top of, Malfoy had given her that. And true to his word, he was calling her Hermione instead of her surname. Truth be told, she was a little nervous about calling him Draco, and was temporarily calling him nothing at all. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't comment.

It was just that calling him Draco would be like finally admitting that she really did think of him as a new person. And when she was alone with him, working on homework or preparing to go to bed, she really did. She knew there was a while different person there that had been smothered for so long, that was compassionate and loving. But then, when she sat between Harry and Ron at Gryffindor table, surrounded by the seventh years and red and gold uniforms, it was just too hard to completely forget. Still, she was slowly falling- dare she say it?- in love with him. And that was what she wanted, in all honesty. To be able to say that she had fallen in love before she died, which really could be any day. The final battle was approaching, and Harry seemed to disappear from the school on weekends. It wasn't hard to guess what he was doing.

As she rounded a corner, she realized something was wrong. The lights were dimmed for some reason, making eerie shadows cast across the walls. And she could smell something coppery and strong, like blood. Her eyes widening in realization, Hermione cast her wand light around the corridor, to see a crumpled figure lying in a fetal position under an archway, blond hair tinted red at the tips where it dipped into the likewise colored puddle beneath his head. She gasped in horror, and immediately ran to Malfoy's side, seeing his closed eyes and barely moving profile, and hovered her ear over his mouth to check his slowed breathing. She rested her hand accidentally on his chest to try and gain stability, only to feel the sticky liquid seep between her fingers. He was still breathing, though slowly and weakly.

"Oh Merlin, Malfoy, who did this to you?" He did not answer. The small, familiar prickle of tears pressed on the inside of her eyelids, and that hopeless falling feeling that had overcome her when she had learnt of her foster parents' murder, swept in. Yet she forced it back and away, concentrating on restoring him to health. Fearlessly, she pushed his school robe aside and began to unbutton his oxford shirt, that was no longer white, to find that every one of the crisscrossing scars she had been so fascinated by was open, dripping blood. Working quickly, she tried to heal them, only to remember Malfoy's haunting words. _'They can't be healed… I usually illusion them.'_

Horrified, she shrugged off her own robe and tore off a long stretch of the material from the bottom. With this she put pressure on the particularly brutal line that she remembered would continue all the way to his thigh. Stifling a shudder, Hermione gave him a brief once over, and saw that aside from his white, black, and blue face, there didn't seem to be any major lasting damage or broken bones. Hopefully, he would be able to help treat his cuts when he awoke, and she could use a blood-replenishing potion from her first aid kit to regain his color.

With that in mind, she levitated him and wrapped her cloak securely around his torso, before quickly getting back to their dorms.

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"Enervate."

Nothing was clear when Malfoy opened his eyes. He couldn't make out any shapes or smells or details, only warmth, meaning he wasn't in the hallway, or the stuffy air of the infirmary. Of course, it only took a few seconds for him to feel the intense pain on his stomach and the throbbing pulse in his temples. He winced, remembering his one-sided fight. Wouldn't White be pleased? But he wouldn't tell her, she'd be terrified.

'_Personally, I don't think you would want someone else to get the honor of taking away her virginity, would you?'_

Blaise's words mingled with the clanging in his mind as his eyes drifted back closed. It was hard to think about anything at the moment, since this _hurt_. He was so tired. And so weak.

"Oh no you don't, drink this," someone urged, sounding frantic. He didn't have much of a choice, as his mystery caregiver tipped a mouthful of gruesome liquid into his open mouth. Malfoy gagged hopelessly before forcing the copper tasting elixture down, as mystery girl rubbed comforting circles on his arm. Thanks to its taste, he could identify it as blood-replenishing potion, and though it in no way lessened his headache or pain, his vision began to slowly clear. White was sitting cross-legged on her king sized beg next to him, her shirt tinted red, as were the already colored covers he was stretched out on top of. After seeing he was more alert, she grabbed another potion, saying simply,

"Now this one." He obediently sipped down the painkiller, and then sat up slowly, supporting his weight on his hands. She looked him over anxiously, wincing as she was once again faced with his wounded skin. He looked down automatically to see that his scars had been reopened during his beating, but new films of skin were forming tentatively over them as they always did. After all, they were meant as a reminder, but not a fatal one. Looking back up, he knew she must be bursting with questions, but was waiting for him to feel better. Sure enough there was a strain in her eyes, but also concern and some type of appreciation. White was as pale as her name right then, and the look of being oddly covered in _his_ blood made him feel guilty, though he didn't understand it.

Reaching out his hand, he pressed his palm against her cheek, with his fingers curling under her chin, and gave her a small nod of reassurance. She shivered, but smiled nervously. Malfoy let his hand drop back into his lap, before he resumed examining his chest. It was bare, he realized, and with a questioning smirk in her direction, he ran his finger down the largest cut.

"Who did this?" she finally asked, her voice little more than a whisper as if his attacker could still be listening. His relaxed façade dissolved, replaced by a bitter scowl. She was going to make him go to McGonagall or Potter, she wouldn't understand.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he responded mockingly, hoping she would get the point. She didn't, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Seriously, Hermione, it's nothing." He knew it was a downright lie, but didn't want her to know, just like he didn't want to tell her about Snape's warning. But he should have realized that Hermione _Granger_ didn't lose interest, and a name change wouldn't alter that fact.

"_Nothing_? It's _nothing_? Draco, I thought you were _dead_! You lost a lot of blood and if I hadn't found you, you would have _died_. I don't think you understand how serious this _is_! I need to know who did this, so that he can be properly punished!" Malfoy smile peacefully, earning himself another scowl. "What's so funny?" she snapped.

"I've never heard you say my name out loud before," he admitted, looking sheepish. "It just sounded so beautiful." White gulped, as a red flush spread out across her face. He found her hand from where it had been resting on her knee, and held it carefully between his own. She looked directly into his eyes, before she shook herself and pulled away.

"Don't try to _distract_ me, this is important!" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that wouldn't have lasted long.

"Way to go, Hermione, you just ruined one of our first moments as a couple. What will we tell the grandchildren?" he teased, only getting a growl in response. "Please, let me take care of this. Don't worry about my safety, worry about yours." Her eyes widened in surprise as he realized what he'd just told her. But she needed to know, to some degree. "Don't travel on your own, and please do not be alone with dangerous Slytherins."

"Wouldn't you count as a dangerous Slytherin?" she asked with a smile. He shrugged. "Draco, I understand that you don't want to ask for help, but can you at least tell me if it was a Death Eater or a student?" That sounded within reason to him, so he sighed and said calmly,

"Both."

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Hermione didn't let him get out of bed until well into the afternoon. Surprisingly, the weak film of skin growing over his wounds continued to spread until his scars resembled what they had been before, jagged white lines running across him. Along with Hermione's healing experience, Malfoy's black eyes turned to normal, and he once again looked like his pasty self. They worked together over the next week to clear away any blood that they came across in her dorm, and Malfoy made sure that she never traveled without an escort where-ever Blaise could be located.

Malfoy disappeared into her bathroom on the following Friday night while she changed out of her boring school wardrobe. The day had been rough, with Blaise sending her smirks all through Advanced Potions, and she was looking forward to getting to sleep early. However, when Hermione opened her underwear draw, fully prepared to don her colorless granny panties, she was confronted by a startling realization. She was in danger. So was Malfoy. And although it seemed hard to understand and put into perspective, he could have died. She could be killed as well, if it was true that there were Death Eaters in Hogwarts.

Hermione stifled a laugh as a sudden memory of Lavender sitting heartbroken on her bed flew up into her mind's eye. After her breakup with Ron the previous year, the blond had broken down and moaned to her best friend Parvati about how she would die a virgin. Hermione had smirked at the girl's naivety, but now the thought became quite a risk. Wearing shapeless cotton panties wasn't going to solve that problem, which now seemed very real since she now had a boyfriend. Feeling naughty, she knelt down to peer into the back of her drawer, looking for the gag birthday gift the very same dorm-mate had given her earlier in the year. Nestled under a pair of tube-socks was a small pink bag, which she tugged out by its black rope handles. Giggling, she dug out the tan colored, lacy demi-cup bra and the matching tan boy shorts that she knew would magically alter themselves to cling to her body and reveal her every flattering curve. With one final, guilty glance at her bathroom door, she slid them on, before waltzing over to the mirror.

What had been meant as a joke gift had turned out to be the most useful present she had ever gotten, Hermione concluded, stunned by her own reflection. The underwear was classy but sexy, with the pants cut very low and ending right where the swell of her butt met her thigh. She looked amazing, and was fueled by confidence by her lean figure and unblemished skin. With a start, she noticed the water had shut off in the bathroom, and she quickly grabbed her school robe off the back of a nearby chair, pulling it around her. The irony that she was wearing her Head Girl robes with lingerie, preparing to seduce the Slytherin she had spent six years loathing was not lost on her. She arranged the long robe so that it hung open suggestively around her cleavage, but closed before you could see her bra, giving the appearance that she wasn't wearing one at all. Laughing about what Harry and Ron would say if they could see her now, before tiptoeing over to the bathroom door.

She opened it slowly, making sure Malfoy was properly covered at first. He was examining the deep rings under his eyes with annoyance, but turned around quickly at the sound of the door opening. Suddenly feeling shy, the witch averted her eyes to the floor as she closed it behind her, and leant against it awkwardly.

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. Hermione was wearing nothing but a school robe? That was an image he'd thought he would never see. It was adorable to see her so afraid of his eyes, which he shamelessly slid over her exposed skin. She'd left her frizzy hair down, though it was flat from how much she'd probably padded it down in worry, and it made her look even more innocent. However, it enforced the image of her as the untouchable Gryffindor in his mind. After clearing his throat, he teased softly.

"I do believe you've forgotten your pajamas, Hermione." She smiled weakly, looking up at his chiding statement. What she saw took her breath away. Damp from the shower, his hair was plastered to his head and the back of his neck, making her remember his gelled hair from their first few school years. He smirked playfully, as if he knew exactly what she was planning and he found it amusing. He hadn't shaved yet, judging by the five o'clock shadow around his chin and the sides of his face. The network of scars across his skin was pronounced as always, and most of which disappeared behind the white towel slung dangerously low on his waist. Eyebrows tilted in surprise, he repeated, "Hermione?"

"Sorry," she mumbled quietly, embarrassed. What had she been thinking, dressing up to seduce Draco Malfoy? She should have known he would laugh, it was so unlikely that he even really liked her! Rock, meet hard place. She turned to leave, one hand on the doorknob.

"Wait," he said, grabbing her shoulder. She jerked backwards and he let go quickly, causing her robe to fall loose and open. Hermione gulped at the sound of his sharp intake of breath, resisting the urge to fidget as he looked her over.

There was no way to describe the thoughts running through his head right then, but his facial expression told her every thing she needed to know. He was dazed, but he seemed fascinated even so. The only time he had seen her in anything less than shorts and a tank top had been when she was feverish, but now he couldn't feel guilty about examining every inch of her skin. However, he also knew she had said she wasn't ready for such a big step, and breathed quietly, "What are you doing?"

Hermione made no effort to close her robe, but was scared all the same. But she also knew that she wanted this to happen. She wanted to be with him completely, to know there was nothing separating them anymore. Alliances, friends, and prophecies couldn't come between lovers, and she wanted that feeling of security. Empowered and sure, she thrust her chin up and said,

"I'm ready." Malfoy blinked, then blinked again, not quite certain he had heard her. There was no _way_ she had just- it couldn't be! Not now, when they were so violently reminded that they weren't safe in their own home! She laughed at his dumbstruck expression. "Draco, I do believe you're ruining a very romantic moment. Now get your arse over here and kiss me!" Awoken by her sarcasm, he leant over and pressed his lips to hers, sweet and gentle. Moving his hand to her shoulder, he closed the distance between them, still keeping a steady hold on his towel with the other.

Before wrapping her arms around his neck, she shrugged off the restraining school robe, letting her flat stomach press against his, with the pronounced scars rubbing against her. What she had previously considered revolting, was now dead sexy in that clichéd, bad boy sort of way, and Hermione growled, frustrated that his soft kiss didn't match his appearance. Sensing her wish like he had during a dance, he bit down on her lower lip, and moved his hand from her shoulder to her lower back, drawing her more tightly against him. This felt so right to him, being so close to her when he knew exactly where this was heading. Her fingers found their rightful place in his hair, as he moved his lips to her neck, then to her shoulder with light, butterfly kisses.

_Are you really sure?_ He asked briefly, nuzzling his face into her neck. She smiled at his concern, and giggled as he touched a sensitive patch on her side.

_Yes, I'm really, really sure._

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**A/N: Yeah, so since I cut out any of the… um… not work safe stuff, I'll just make it basic for anyone who isn't all that quick on the uptake. THEY DO IT! Heh heh.**

**Teaser? I've only written the first page and a half of the next chapter, but I can already tell you that from now on it's almost all Hermione POV, with little visits to Malfoy. It's a little hard to describe, so I'll just give you a hint.**

"_Well well, my darling son has returned."_

**Ha ha, evil much? So, um, Luci's back. –Does little dance- I love writing him, he's so evil. La la, I'm delirious with joy.**

**Review please! And go read Magnetic Attraction! Go!**

**And might I add that this is the last time I shall update before school starts. Tee hee.**

**Final Word Count: 4869**


	15. Innocence

**A/N: Well, it's been a while. I blame the site, it still won't let me update. But I can update from school, so tada, problem solved. For now at least. **

**Anyway, I know where the fics going now, so a break is always good. And this is a pretty long chapter as well. So no worries, I suppose it all worked out for the best. Voila, Chapter 15.**

**Updates for all my fics are on the way, so never fear.**

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**Chapter 15: Innocence**

As was normal, Malfoy woke up first the following morning. With the relaxed nature of a man who had a very good night, he slowly opened one eye, and then the other, as if testing how bright the light would be in the room. Yawning, he groggily blinked a few times, before stretching his free arm above his head. The other was of course wrapped under a still slumbering White, who was resting her head against his chest, a blue blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Malfoy smiled at the sight of his girlfriend's peaceful face, and debated snuggling back up to her warm, naked body for a few more hours of deep sleep. Regretfully, he decided that this would be pointless, and that it would be better idea to get up and maybe bring breakfast up to the room for her.

He slowly sat up on the couch, easing her down into the cushions. She didn't stir, and only rolled over onto her stomach, curling around a pillow. Relieved, the Slytherin stood up and reached down to pick up his towel from the floor, before padding across the rich carpet to his trunk near the lit fireplace. Humming a soft tune under his breath, he pulled out a faded pair of black cords and a plain gray button down shirt, as well as a comfortable brown cloak Lupin had given him. Malfoy nodded in approval at his fashion sense and quietly put on the outfit, all the while wondering about his feelings for White.

If he was not mistaken, he was in love with the woman sleeping only a few yards away. For no other person would he let down his defenses like he had the previous night and for no other person would he willingly live in Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy snorted. How ironic, the one person who could melt Draco Malfoy was the person he was fated to be with, and was possibly the one person his parents had wanted him to marry least.

Marriage. What a foreign thought. He sat back down next to his trunk. He wanted to marry her after the war, live in a warm, noisy home like a more expensive version of the famed Weasley burrow. But the war didn't seem like it would end soon. After all, Potter was the Chosen One, and if that gangly teenager was the hope of the wizarding world, then they were all screwed. Unless Potter had a trick up his sleeve, Malfoy didn't see the war ending for at least a decade, at which point he very well might be dead.

Malfoy grabbed his wand from the floor, preparing to stand up. But his attention was stolen by a small glimmer from something in his trunk. Frowning, the teenager crouched down in front of it, and sifted his hand trough the mound of items that had passed his security check. What he found turned his face ashen with some shame, and he winced as he pulled out his Death Eater mask, the cold metal making his very blood chill. He turned it over in his hand and wondered how he had forgotten about its presence.

He was so swept up in recollections of past DE meetings that the risk of holding such an unchecked object didn't occur to him. Malfoy didn't even realize that it might be a Portkey until he felt the familiar tug around his naval, and the warm red and gold room around him began to twist and blur. Feeling nauseous, he closed his eyes, keeping a firm grip on both his wand and the mask.

Malfoy landed with a loud thud on a wooden floor, and even before he could get up off his back, a nasty voice cut through his unfocused mind.

"Well, well, my darling son has returned." His gray eyes flew open in absolute terror, but they quickly glazed over as his father murmured silkily, "Imperio."

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Instead of waking up in the arms of her lover, like Hermione had always dreamed, she was pulled from her slumber by a persistent yell from the other side of the portrait guarding the entrance of her rooms. Irritated and yet strangely upbeat, she sat up and looked around her empty room. The only disturbance to register being Malfoy's open trunk. She sighed as she recognized Harry's voice calling her name, and drew Malfoy's blue blanket around her, holding the top of it in her left hand as she stood up. With one final glance around to check that no embarrassing items were in plain view, she padded across the floor, kicking her underwear underneath her bed on her way.

Whatever Harry had been expecting when she opened the portrait, it wasn't this. His eyes widened as he saw a drowsy Hermione, gripping a blanket below her shoulders to cover her obviously naked body, with a type of glossy shine on her skin, caused by sweat and something else. She smiled tiredly at him as his jaw dropped, realizing what would lead his friend to such an outfit.

"Morning Harry," she greeted casually, leaning against the frame. He jerked, as if remembering she was there. Coughing awkwardly, he looked at a spot over her shoulder, before thrusting a section of the Daily Prophet at her. He mumbled, blushing,

"Thought you might want to read this." She unfolded it with some difficulty one-handed, chuckling at his embarrassment, only to be greeted with a large mug shot of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione gulped, reading the headline.

Lucius Malfoy Escapes Azkaban

"Merlin," she stammered, looking back up to her friend. She didn't even need to read the rest of the article to know that this was very bad news. Bad for Malfoy, mainly though. Harry nodded sympathetically, taking back his paper before it could fall from her limp fingers. "How?" He shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Not sure, but it doesn't really matter anyway what matters is finding the git, and there aren't any leads. Narcissa's the only one at their manor, and she knows nothing. Is Malfoy here?" He cast a nervous look around the room behind her, afraid a naked Draco Malfoy would pop out from behind the couch, but she shook her head.

"I don't know where he is, I've only just woken up," she answered, making him smile apologetically.

"Of course. Well, if you see him, send him up to the Headmistress' office for questioning. The Order's sending out scouts to anywhere Lucius could be hiding, but for now we're just gathering information. This is not what we need right now." Harry sighed, taking back his paper. "We're safe from him at Hogwarts, but this is not good news." Hermione nodded, readjusting her hold on her blanket. She didn't have the heart to inform her friend that they were not as safe as he thought in the castle. Perhaps later, when everyone had calmed down. After all, her promise to Malfoy came first.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, feeling she'd been awake way past her bedtime, instead of only just having woken up. Harry shook her head.

"Just be here to keep Malfoy calm. He talks to you, just help him through this." With a final, anxious goodbye, Harry walked away, his head hanging. Hermione bit her lip, worried about him. Little did she know that she was not the one in danger.

She got dressed quickly, knowing that as Head Girl, she would have to comfort and answer the questions from the other students. All during breakfast, students from the three fairer houses circled her and interrogated her for news. She looked for Malfoy during the meal but did not see him, his place at the end of Slytherin table left empty. Harry and Ron were likewise missing, though she knew they were most likely plotting their next move in McGonagall's office. Instead, Hermione sat with Ginny in the Great Hall until dinner, where she could field off questions without inconvenienceing anyone. When curfew fell, she patrolled the halls on her own, before escaping into Gryffindor tower around midnight, completely exhausted. Harry and Ron were the only two up, and she fell onto the couch next to her red-haired friend.

"Any news?" she asked, resting her head in Ron's lap. He pushed some of her hair out of her eyes, shaking his head sadly. She frowned. But there was something else bothering her. "Have either of you seen Malfoy?" Harry's eyebrows rose, and Ron scowled.

"Why?" he questioned, his defense up. She shrugged, blowing a hair off her lip.

"I haven't seen him all today, that's all." The boys looked up at each other, alarmed. Hermione was already drowsy and ran the hem of Ron's shirt between her fingers, not noticing their stunned reaction. Harry opened and closed his mouth, at a loss of what to say, before finally asking,

"When did you last see him?" Closing her eyes, she nuzzled her head against his knees, her face facing Ron, with her back to Harry.

"Last night," she mumbled quietly, smiling at the memory of the blissful night with Malfoy on the sofa. "Everything was fine," she added to reassure them. Ron patted her hair awkwardly, while Harry straightened up and wondered what this could mean. Was there any chance Malfoy had returned to his father's side? Hadn't he changed at all? Concerned, he questioned,

"Did you two fight, or anything to make him leave?" She giggled peacefully, causing Ron's eyes to widen. He sent an amused look to his best friend. It was known that Hermione White never giggled, unless in the company of Ginny, where no one else could possibly hear. Sighing happily, she responded,

"Not that I'm aware of, no." Harry wasn't satisfied with this answer, and instead stood up, wiping his hands on the seat of his pants for no apparent reason.

"Tell me if he comes back," he said simply, before walking past their couch without further comment. Ron frowned, still stroking the back of Hermione's head, as the Fat Lady's portrait opened and closed with a click. Harry was up to something, and whatever it was, it would not be good. Unbothered, Hermione licked her lips and mumbled casually,

"He'll be back tomorrow, right Ron?" The red head looked down at the sleepy girl in his lap sadly. "He wouldn't leave me, would he?" For a handful of seconds she looked upset, but as quickly as the expression on her face came, it faded away. Protective of his friend, Ron took her small hand in his own, before saying,

"No Mione, of course he wouldn't." He wasn't sure why she cared about Malfoy, but he comforted her anyway. She slowly fell asleep in his lap as he lovingly curled his fingers around her palm. It didn't take him long to notice that the small black letter 'M' imprinted on her hand had turned a subtle shade of purple.

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

_His eyes were blank, dark, and empty. His face was gaunt, his skin sallow. She knew it was him, even though he wore that terrible mask, shading his face and strong cheekbones. A few strands of blond hair peeked out from under the black hood loosely hung over his head. He appeared revolted, his upper lip curled with distain, as he leveled his wand right between her eyes. Her breathing was ragged, even though she was sitting down on her knees in the grass, and she could feel her heart pulsing in her throat. Harry's limp wrist was in her hand, and she had only one logical thought. Why wasn't Malfoy helping her?_

"_Draco! Help me!" she begged, confused by his silence. He didn't flinch. "Please, Harry's ill! He's not breathing!" Hermione looked back at her fallen friend, who's chest was indeed not moving as he lay on his back beside her, seeming almost surreal. Her vision was blurry, she was so tired. It went unsaid that she was terrified, her blood rushing, but more prominent was the confusion._

_It confused her even more when she got no response. Her boyfriend stared at her with that blank look, even though his face was twisted into a sneer. Harry's lips were blue._

"_Draco, why aren't you moving? This isn't you! Take your mask off, **this isn't you**!" Her voice was hysterical, showing her denial, and yet it earned no real reaction from Malfoy. She could smell the blood, the death in the air. Nothing was making sense, her dress was in tatters, and she **really needed help**. No one seemed to be there to give her anyway. Everyone was in the trees, far away it seemed. Why wasn't he listening? What was happening to her? Anger broiled inside her, stirring all of her impossible emotions causing her to break down at last. The tears were almost a relief as they poured down her cheeks, and her nose grew runny as she pressed her ear desperately to Harry's chest, finding no trace of a heartbeat. Frantically glancing at the unmoving Malfoy, she screamed,_

"_DRACO! NO, YOU NEED TO HELP ME! HE'S DIEING, I NEED YOU!" Nothing. Just the sneer. Just the revulsion. His face seemed fragmented, as if she was seeing it through a mosquito net, and nothing seemed real. She couldn't hear anything other than her own breath. Finally giving in, she yelled, "I **LOVE** YOU!"_

Hermione sat directly up in her bed, purple light blasting around her eyelids. She gasped for air, searching her room for anything to suggest that she wasn't completely safe. Only one thing seemed wrong.

Malfoy wasn't back.

Terrified, she leant against her headboard, and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes, not letting herself cry. For the first time in weeks she had remembered her nightmare, and he wasn't even there to tell her it would all be okay.

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Hermione had her first Order meeting the very next day, which Harry had called because of Lucius Malfoy's escape. It was a Sunday, meaning more people were able to attend, including Remus Lupin. The werewolf sat across from her, smiling sadly while giving her a knowing look. She smiled nervously back, setting both her palms flat on the table, before turning to watch more order members trickle into Professor McGonagall's office. Harry was leaning against the side of the fireplace, alternating between glancing at his watch and staring into the flames, which would turn green every few minutes with the arrival of someone else. Traveling by floo was much more convenient, considering no one could Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds. Also a factor was the hassle of walking through the halls of the castle, as it was a Sunday and filled with jumpy students.

"Has anyone heard from Severus since the news?" Remus asked the room in general. Next to her, Ron flinched, as he always did when their old potions master was mentioned in conversation, but he didn't have any other reaction. She watched as no one answered. Disappointed, though not exactly surprised, Remus settled back into his chair. Tonks murmured something softly into his ear, making him smile, and Hermione looked back down at the deep brown wood of the conference table, feeling the harsh ache in the pit of her stomach. Where was Malfoy, to cheer _her_ up like that? Why hadn't he been there last night?

The flames changed colors again, and a haggard looking Mad-Eye Moody stepped out of the ashes, nodding to Harry. He straightened out, his glass eye swiveling around to the few empty chairs at the table, before limping over to sit near the head of the table, his wooden leg rattling on the floor. His electric blue eye paused on Hermione as he sat down, and she stared back, though inside she was still shaken by his stare. Ron already knew this, and placed his hand on her knee to make her feel better.

"First meeting, White?" he growled, lowering his eyes to see Ron's protective gesture. He smiled smugly. "Nervous?" She shifted, uneasy under his scrutiny as well as annoyed by Ron's considerate touch. It didn't feel right when she had so recently given herself to Malfoy. Hermione forced a small, weak laugh.

"Just a tad, yes. It's an honor to be included in the Order, and at such an important time too!" Unimpressed, Moody nodded and turned away, before striking up a conversation with Hiesta Jones. Hermione sighed, embarrassed, and picked up her quill to twirl it anxiously between her fingers. The red head beside her shrugged and opened the stuffed folder in front of him, filled with notes from the last meeting. Understanding the girl's nerves more than her male best friend would, Tonks leaned forward and said quietly,

"Wotcher Hermione. Draco still missing?" Surprised that the Metamorphmagus knew he had disappeared in the first place, she looked up quickly. Tonks observed her through lidded eyes. The older witch did her best to be the happy force behind the Order, but she was just as tired and weary as her boyfriend. When Hermione nodded, she added softly enough so that only the younger girl could hear, "He'll be back. He cares, Hermione, that's why he talks to you."

The small thought brought a timid smile to Hermione's lips, and she relaxed backwards into her chair, knowing this was true.

"Okay then, that's everyone," Harry said, just as Kingsley Shacklebolt eased into a chair closer to the fireplace. "Let's just start." Harry stood at the front of the table, his hands folded one over the other on the table. The shadows created by the fire accented how drawn he was as well. She felt a rush of guilt as she realized how detached she and Malfoy had allowed themselves to become from the war. It seemed everyone was exhausted. "What were the results for the raids on Malfoy Manor?" he asked the group, his eyes skimming over everyone.

"Nothing," was the gruff reply of Moody. "Absolutely nothing. It's empty, with Narcissa still in custody and the house elves were cowering in the cellar squeaking about Mistress Cissy's afternoon tea." He rolled his one normal eye in annoyance, though the magical one stayed fixed on Harry. Ron shivered with disgust at this crude, though natural expression. Harry seemed used to it. Hermione merely felt bad for the house elves. "Their vacation homes in France, Costa Rica, and California all had the same results." Their young leader looked disappointed, but he sighed and said bluntly,

"That was to be expected. What's the ministry doing?" Shacklebolt spoke up this time. He cleared his throat as if starting a long speech, which of course gathered all of the attention from the other Order members, before he said happily,

"Nothing." Tonks glared at him across Remus' lap, but he only winked. Harry waved his hand to urge him to continue. "The auror department lacks good leadership now that Scrimgeour's stretched so thin, and there's a real need for better information. Most of the other aurors are getting irritated with the ministry's policy of 'Let's just clean up instead of preventing anything.'" He nodded to Tonks and she took up where he left off, appearing smug.

"A few of them expressed interest in joining the Order, not by name of course, but they know we have some type of group going on to fix what the ministry's ignoring. I said I'd get back to them." Harry nodded, finally sitting down. He still looked doubtful however, with his eyes narrowed, and he asked,

"Do you have a list I can check?" She slid a small sleeve of parchment to him, and Hermione watched as his expression became unreadable. After a few seconds, he nodded and let the list drop back onto the table, where Ron reached out for it and unfurled it so that they both could read. The names were unfamiliar to her, but Ron growled in frustration and exclaimed,

"But they're all in their first or second year on the job! What could they possibly offer?" Tonks coughed indignantly, and further down the table Arthur Weasley, the only other Weasley present, said quietly,

"Everyone has something to offer, Ron, even if it's just another fighter in the battle. Plus half the aurors are talented witches and wizards who aren't being trained to their full potential at the ministry." The older Weasley observed his son over the tops of his glasses to insure that the point was delivered. The teenager realized his mistake. For added affect, Tonks piped up,

"And I was only starting in my position when I joined the Order!" Ron smiled sheepishly. Harry cleared his throat. The small chatter that had grown in the small interlude shuddered to a halt and once again all eyes were on their leader. Hermione marveled at how well he commanded the room, with full-grown men double his age answering to him. The idea of the innocent, shy little boy whom she had met on the school train seemed to have long since been replaced.

"Alright Tonks, just make sure they're all legit and bring one to the next meeting. What about Narcissa, has she spilled anything?" he continued. Yet before anyone answered, a small tap against the glass of the window beside the fireplace drew their attention. Hermione could make out a small murky figure flitting up and down with dark wings in the mild rain outside, but it was too far for her to see it clearly. Harry smiled wanly, while Ron bristled in his seat. Confused, she looked across the table to ask Remus what the shape was, but he was already out of his seat and walking to the window. Tonks sensed her lack of understanding.

"It's Snape, Hermione. He's an Animagus." The young witch's eyes bulged in alarm. Turning to glare at Harry, she yelled, flattening her palms once again on the table as she stood up,

"**_What!" _**He blinked at her, looking guilty but nonetheless businesslike. "How come I'm only learning this now?" Ron tugged on her sleeve, but she didn't sit back down. Neither of them answered. "Huh?"

"White, control yourself," growled Moody, startling her. She whirled around to see him eyeing her with obvious disapproval, and quickly sat down, blushing scarlet. However, she was still not satisfied, and was forced to give Ron a strong kick in his shins under the table. He whimpered as he recoiled, but nonetheless knew better than to start an argument during the meeting.

Remus closed the window as bat Snape flew in, hovering behind the head of the conference table next to Harry. Watching him transform was eerie. Slowly the small animal's wings lengthened and straightened into arms, while its tiny legs extended and grew to more human proportions. The small beady eyes turned into the narrowed dark eyes of the potion master's, and in only a few seconds he stood before them, scowling as usual. His greasy hair was shimmery with rain from his flight, as were his black robes, and he appeared deeply troubled, as well as annoyed. Yet instead of continuing to lurk over them, he too sunk slowly into a chair and folded his hands on the table, as he observed those seated at the table. Hermione immediately sensed that something was wrong as he noticed her presence and only sighed, instead of his customary sneer. Her previous fury subsided into fearful panic, and she relaxed backwards. The room was tense as they waited for him to speak. Finally, he did.

"Found him." The rest of the room seemed slightly relieved, now that Lucius' location was not as much of a mystery, but he remained somber. Hermione bit her lip. "Lucius went straight to the Dark Lord's side. He's cleaning himself up at the fortress and getting caught up with the news."

"At least we know where he is," Arthur Weasley said calmly. "He's less of a risk now." This did little to lighten Snape's emotion. He wasn't angry, just depressed.

"But the thing is," he paused, looking once again at the Head Girl. Ron reached over to take her hand again, but she wrenched it out of his grasp. No one noticed. "He's not alone." Only four people came to the right conclusion straight away. Tonks looked horrified, Remus seemed concerned, Harry gulped and glanced at Hermione, and Hermione's own heart shattered into pieces. Her eyes grew wide as Hagrid's hands and it seemed that her breath got caught in her throat, as she struggled to hold back tears of shock already forming. Denial filled her as people began to whisper. Snape seemed to be waiting for her to come to attention, perhaps out of respect.

_No, it can't be. Malfoy would never leave you, he wouldn't go back to his father. Stop it, this is silly. It **can't** be._

"His son was with him," he added finally. All remaining restraint snapped within her, and her tears, however silent, slid down her nose, and left a salty taste on her lips. She looked down at the table as thoughts flew through her head before she could process them completely. Did he look down on her for their night? Had he really been acting? She whimpered, not listening as Snape continued. Was he a spy? Had he, she shivered, had he told them about her? Did he talk to them?

_Had it all been a lie?_

"But I thought he was staying with Miss White in her dorms?" Professor McGonagall hissed, glaring at Hermione as if it were her fault. She wasn't paying attention anyway. Snape sighed, obviously not bothered by her snide comments.

"Well regardless, he's there. He's under his father's imperious, so that makes things more complicated." He sent a meaningful look at her, as if this was her answer, her reassurance. She blinked, tears still flowing. "From what I gather, Lucius and the Dark Lord aren't doing anything to him right now, he mainly just stands by his father's side, still silent, and hardly ever leaves his room otherwise. He seems healthy though." Her voice was gone, and she simply stared at her old Potions professor, stunned. He wasn't healthy, he was a prisoner, with no self-control! Remus likewise appeared disgusted, and Tonks was following Snape's every word with a grim frown. Harry was paying rapt attention as well, but kept glancing at her frequently. But no one other than the five of them seemed so upset. Ron took crude notes concerning Malfoy's location, but his face was blank. Arthur Weasley was whispering quietly to Kingsley.

"And we're bothered to track Malfoy Jr. _why_ exactly?" Moody grumbled, appearing a strange cross between annoyed and weary. Hermione sent him a teary glare, her hand over her mouth as a reflex. "He's not a member of the Order, and thusly he's not our bloody problem." Remus spotted her horrified expression and quickly leaned forward to argue,

"But the prophecy-"

"Is nonsense. White, has there been any hint that the prophecy holds any chance of being fulfilled?" Moody interrupted, both his eyes searching her face for any betrayal of her emotion. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she realized just how far the prophecy had been completed.

'_Only when the son of dragons and the daughter of the light join can the troubles of time be thus solved.'_

Once again Remus came to her rescue, smelling her mortification. He snarled levelly,

"Would she be so upset if there hadn't?" They eyes of the Order traveled back and forth between the two adults. Moody stood up, leaning on the table for support. She shrunk backwards into her chair.

"I'm not talking about a silly schoolgirl crush, I'm talking about the prophecy." Once again they looked to Hermione, but she had her hands over her eyes. Remus quickly diverted their attention, correctly assuming the truth.

"He is an innocent child, Alastor, under the command of his father, no less. He can't stay there!" Moody laughed harshly, making everyone flinch. The older man smirked viciously at his companion, before drawling,

"Innocent? _Innocent?_ You've been blinded, Lupin, he is a Death Eater, Snape confirmed it! He's to be held responsible for Albus' death, _don't you forget that_!" This awoke Hermione, who pulled her hands away from her eyes and stood up, leaning slightly across the edge of the table, her fingers clutching it helplessly. She was a striking figure, with her skin glazed with tears and her head held high. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, excluding several curls that had escaped and stuck to her cheeks. It wasn't often that anyone saw the Head Girl distraught, and many winced and looked away, unwilling to have their unbroken image of her shattered. She glowered at the ex-auror, before saying slowly, her voice low and quiet,

"He didn't want to become a Death Eater, he told me so himself." People blinked, surprised, though there was little change to the harsh atmosphere. Moody rolled his eyes again. Snape, however, nodded in agreement.

"And you believed him?" Moody cackled. She nodded stiffly. "We have no reason to trust anything that little shit said to any of us. None of us do! Constant Vigilance, damn it!" At this point Snape joined back into the argument, and stood up as well, his robes rustling. Hermione took a deep breath, knowing he would be able to turn the conversation around. The lone Slytherin sneered, folding his arms across his chest.

"I believe I have every reason to trust Draco." Moody grudgingly let him continue. "He was not safe at Hogwarts, since the Dark Lord had it in for him after Dumbledore's death. He was afraid too, for his own safety, as well as Miss Whites." Ron scoffed, but Hermione's snarl silenced him. "He was considering joining the Order, as it was either that or face his mistakes." With a gulp, Hermione remembered Malfoy's blood covered figure lying in the hallway.

"It's true," she whispered ruefully. "He was brutally attacked only a week ago by a student. If I hadn't found him he would have died from blood loss." Snape's eyes snapped back to her.

"It was Zabini, Blaise Zabini. The Dark Lord said the boy would prove his loyalty soon, but I never figured it would involve Draco," he admitted, turning to look at Harry. "Why is it no one informed me that recruits are attacking students inside the castle?" She winced before saying,

"Malfoy promised me he would take care of it. I never told anyone." Moody grunted in fury, and Snape just blinked, his face showing his annoyance. She sat back down, her fight gone. She'd messed up, she saw that now.

"So he's a liability too," Moody said, regaining his hold on his temper. He and Snape both sat back down slowly, casting irritated glances at each other.

"But he's only a teenag-," Remus started.

"No, I agree with Alastor," admitted Harry, his voice stern and yet gentle somehow. All focus of the table swung back to their leader. Hermione's jaw dropped. But Ron was nodding too. Harry continued, "I'm sorry Hermione, but it's true. Time's running out, and there are so many other things to work on right now. Getting Malfoy out is not possible." She gasped.

"But-,"

"_No_, Hermione," he interrupted. "I'm sorry."


	16. Dangerous Slytherins

**A/N: Yes, I know, I'm an evil updater. How horrible, how terrible, I can't believe I did it. No seriously, I'm sorry, but I'm so outrageously busy that there was no way to prevent it. At least this update is long and full of action and foreshadowing. And, at the end author note, you'll see that I have fun news. Well anyway, must go and finish the chapter, I guess, ha ha, that's what you all want anyway. I'm stalling right now. I'll shut up.**

**Oh, and this chapter isn't betaed, seeing as I promised I'd update, but I'll probably repost it later when it's been properly edited. Excuse any awful spelling mistakes and strange sentence structures.**

**So when we last left our poor Hermione and Malfoy, she was fighting at the Order meeting about rescuing Draco, only to be refused. And he was off at the Death Eater headquarters with his father, under the imperious curse.**

**WMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM**

**Chapter 16: Dangerous Slytherins**

From this day on, a rift was born between Hermione and Harry, one of the first that the two friends had endured. Ron was at a loss, torn between his best friends, and normally chose Harry when it came to sitting with one of them at meals. This left her on her own, as Ginny had found her own clique of sixth years after Harry had broken things off between them. After spending so much time with Malfoy, she was not used to so much bustle and laughter that filled the common room, and ended up resorting to her old haunt, the library.

About a week after she had learned of Malfoy's location, she was sitting at a desk by herself, surrounded by old books from the genealogy section. She was nothing if not focused, and now that she had a large amount of time on her own, there was a mystery she wanted solved.

'_Later generations shall provide the vital link. Only when the son of dragons and the daughter of the light join can the troubles of time be thus solved. Confusion, names, and old rivalries do not hold a candle to love born from hate. White and black mesh into gray, but light and dark bring peace. Identities changed and brown turns to red. The daughter knows not of power, the son knows not of emotion. As lessons are learned, distance changes. Dragons tamed while dark shadows grow. By battling measures and rejecting the blank, what the daughter seeks and the son fears can reset all ruins. What ends can begin again. What begins again comes back stronger. The names reinforce themselves, allowing circles to burn dark. Scream to be heard, whisper to live.'_

It was like a logic puzzle, as opposed to an insane Trelawny-esque prediction. Parts of it confused her, but others sounded remarkably correct. She stared down at the aged copy of Ancient Propheci, smiling slightly as she began to realize why this prophecy was such a huge deal to the wizarding world. It wasn't romantic, as Lavender and Parvati twittered about, but it was honest. She appreciated it. And she could quite easily see Malfoy in it, 'The son knows not of emotion.' But the daughter knows not of power? Did she really have power?

Well, that just proved she _didn't_ know of power, she rationalized.

Yet the 'rejecting the blank' portion made absolutely no sense. What was it that she wanted and Malfoy feared? And what was the whole 'begin again' thing? And 'allowing the circles to burn'? Was that some type of metaphor for her ring? It was, after all, what had caused everything.

Hermione looked down at her palm again, resting her knuckles on her book as she once again studied the purple W there. She had first noticed the new color just after her first Order meeting, and had been unsuccessful in trying to figure out its cause. It could be a number of things, and all her theories made her shiver and try to distract herself instead. Did it have something to do with the distance between herself and Malfoy? Or with Malfoy's imperious? Or something even more sinister, perhaps it showed that he was in danger? Or that he was being unfaithful, betraying her after all they had-

'No, I mustn't think of that. He wouldn't do that to me.'

Closing her eyes, she let out a helpless sigh, tired of the same line of thought constantly running through her mind like tickertape. There was no answer. She had no choice but to wait. This wasn't a dramatic romance where she could dash off and save him, she knew better than to go and venture unpr0tected into a Death Eater camp, which was at a location that was a mystery to her anyway. It was up to the Order to save him. But waiting was killing her.

It was because of this irritation that Hermione had begun to wear the White ring each day, and as she thought of him, she twisted the silver band around her index finger.

'Scream to be heard, whisper to be alive.'

She needed another source, as this one would offer her no more help. She reluctantly closed it and stood up, her mind still reeling. Perhaps there would be an encyclopedia with a lengthy, detailed assessment of the prophecy in the back of the library? Calmed somewhat by this tempting idea, she walked away from her table and entered the orderly stacks, set on the idea of visiting her Encyclopedia Magica. For some reason, the farther she got, the darker it seemed to get, the candles dimming with each step. It was nothing dramatic, but prominent enough so that she couldn't see the gold letters at the ends of the shelves. Frowning, she retrieved her wand from her pocket and lit it, before turning right into an aisle.

She spent a peaceful ten minutes rifling through the various editions and letters, before finally pulling out the slim 'W'. Hermione grazed her fingertip down the flimsy page, her eyes searching for her new last name. The passage ended up being pages long, and in tiny font that stressed her eyes in the murky lighting, so she lowered her wand over it, skimming it quickly. There was no in depth mentions of the prophecy, as a large chunk of the article was devoted to various dead relatives such as Iris White, her grandmother, and some that went further back. At the end there was a request to turn to page 272 in the 'M' volume for more on the prophecy. The Head Girl yawned silently as she put the book away, beginning to search for the next one.

Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth as a strong arm slithered tightly over her arms and around her front. Her eyes widened as her back was crushed against someone's chest, and she screamed, only to find she had been silenced. She tried to struggle against her captor, but the larger person only strengthened his hold, picking her feet up off the ground and knocking her wand out of her grip. Remembering the defense lessons she had taken for a few weeks that summer, she tried to kick this man -for she knew it was a man by his broad, flat, muscular chest and the almost lecherous placement of his hands- only to have herself become unable to move an inch, her eyes frantically looking down the dark aisle, already aware that she had been immobilized.

"Well if it isn't our newest celebrity," her captor snarled into her ear, his breath sickeningly hot and misty against her neck. She would have flinched if she had been able to move. Long fingers splayed out across her stomach, sneaking up the material of her shirt, as he continued. "It looks like dear old Malfoy left his girl unprotected, and who am I to let him get away with such a moronic mistake?" Bile crawled up her throat, and she was able to at last place his voice, dark and arrogant. It was Zabini, of _course_ it was. The Order had never caught him doing anything, and had never been able to take him into custody. Here he was now, though, abusing her. How wonderfully ironic.

'_Don't travel alone, and please _do not_ be alone with any dangerous Slytherins.'_

She squeezed her eyes shut as his hand slid farther upwards, skimming against the bottom of her bra. Hermione yelled at herself for not trying to learn wandless magic, thinking of all the spells she could have used on Zabini. _'Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Sectumsempra.'_ She could imagine him on the floor, cold and still, as Malfoy glared at his fallen enemy, his wand still leveled as he defended her. A small tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and she was unable to wipe it away, but it was the least of her problems. Zabini was not as fearless now, inch by inch cupping her breast in his palm, lowering his lips to her neck to bit down on her skin. More tears came, but still silent. He wasn't going to kill her yet, he would rape her first. _'Stupefy. Stupefy. Crucio. Stupefy_.'

"I suppose it's a good thing you ended up a pureblood after all," he continued, trailing his mouth further up to her jaw, while his free hand lowered to her thigh, curling his fingers between her legs. Nausea was quickly closing in, but it wasn't until his hand continued to rise and his nails scratched against her privates through her underwear that the purple letter on her palm fused to red, burning and pulsing suddenly. Hermione breathed raggedly. "We can have so much more fun together now."

'_DRACO!'_ she screamed mentally, feeling the warning spread through her fingers. The ring warmed slowly as well, still clenched to her side, and just like it had been for the past few weeks, there was no response from Malfoy. Zabini was much more comfortable now, and his sheer nerve led anger to join her previous panic and fear. He wanted to have **_fun_** first? How _dare_ he? And in the _library_ too, where anyone could find them!

Malfoy wasn't coming. He was imprisoned by a curse she couldn't counter. No one was going to rescue her, meaning it was up to her to save herself. Anger continued rising at the thought of her situation and Malfoy's location, as well as Harry and the Orders lack of support, and Ron's constant confusion and lack of loyalty. She could feel the intense emotion breeding in her mark, all of it channeling to her ring.

'_Stupefy. Stupefy. Stupefy.'_

With a radiant flash of purple, everything around her splintered, flying away from her like an explosion, including the Death Eater, who flew backwards into a bookshelf, his head hitting the wood loudly. She panted, her breath deafening in her ears, and she turned around in a daze, her palm returning to purple. Shocked and spent, she bent over to retrieve her wand, before glancing around at the wreckage she had caused.

Hermione didn't faint, however, until a familiar, welcome, lost voice whispered into her mind,

'_Hermione?'_

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Miles and miles away, Draco Malfoy was lying on his back in a small rickety bed, alone in the room that he inhabited with his father. Lucius was off torturing a captive for information, and all of the lamps were unlit around the younger Malfoy. The teenage boy was still under the haze of his father's imperious curse, and stared blankly up at the ceiling as the voice in his head told him to. He'd been doing that a lot lately, staring at the walls. Something told him he didn't enjoy it very much, so why should he do it? But the encouraging voice made him feel much more confident, and he didn't struggle against the order.

While it was true that since the spells creation, wizards had been able to throw off the curse, and the youngest Malfoy had been able to do so at a previous point in time, he could not do it now. A person could propose the idea that he was so used to following orders from his father that the idea of rebelling seemed too difficult and unnecessary in his hazy state of half awareness. The truth could be perhaps more depressing. He didn't have the strength to. You see, every pureblood wizarding family has a ring, a time honored tradition. The normally has the crest of the family or a jewel that indicates who the wearer is. Occasionally the ring will store an enchantment or some sort, an example being the protection charm on the White ring. The Weasley family ring has much less grandeur, considering their disregard for pureblood importance, but resides on the index finger of Arthur Weasley, carrying a minor confidence charm.

The Malfoy line had such a ring, a silver one with an emerald support on the front. Quite a pretentious accessory, but one that Lucius Malfoy avoided talking off. But the special thing about this ring was, like the others, its enchantment, a powerful dark spell, a type of magical steroid almost, that strengthens magic tenfold. This is why Malfoy could not break his imprisonment, he had the silver band nestled on his ring finger, constantly strengthening the intensity of the Imperious.

However, when Hermione White was attacked by Blaise Zabini in the Hogwarts library, the White protection charm temporarily canceled out Lucius' imperious curse, and Malfoy sat jerked up in bed, his palm burning. Shocked, he immediately held up his hand to steady the red mark, before looking around the deplorable room he had found himself in. The memories of waking up next to White, touching the mask, being placed under his father's curse, and numerous Death Eater meetings flash before his eyes, only interrupted by an ear-piercing scream that echoed through his mind.

'DRACO!' Eyes widening in a combination of pain, panic and worry, he wondered what to do. Hogwarts was miles away, he was wandless, and he couldn't apparate out of the fortress. The one time White needed him, it seemed he could do nothing to help her. Was it the final battle already? Was her nightmare becoming a reality right now, as he sat in bed in his boxers and a linen shirt? Frantic, he looked to the doorway, thick and heavy as well as locked. In short, he was helpless. The burning grew stronger, and he let out a gasp, unable to think any longer.

Then suddenly, with a flare of purple light coming from nowhere in particular, the pain reached its climax and he curled his knees up to his chin, clenching his jaw. Panting, he watched his mark turn purple, and his Malfoy ring lose its previous sparkle. Malfoy felt his eyes begin to struggle to stay open, and just before he fainted, he managed to whisper back,

'Hermione?'

When he woke up the next morning, the calm haze was back, and he felt no need to rescue Hermione anymore.

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Hermione was still exhausted when her eyes eased open Tuesday morning, a day and a half after she had passed out in the library. She winced as the light danced in the air around her, taunting and unavoidable in all reality, and wasn't able to push herself up onto her elbows. Sighing quietly, she pressed her cheek back into the pillow underneath her. It felt as if all of her energy had been drained out of her body by some wicked hex. Looking around, she found herself in a bed in the Hospital Wing, with a likewise tired Ron watching her carefully over the top of his Daily Prophet. She blinked at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently as he folded his paper shut and set it down on the chair next to him. A photo of Zabini sneered at her from under a bulky headline. The events of her attack had not yet returned to her, so the caption made little sense.

_Death Eater Dead At Hogwarts_

Frowning, she whispered back,

"Drained." He nodded, expecting this and eased back into his chair. Where had her immature, silly, annoying Ron Weasley gone?

"I'm not surprised," he responded, searching her face for something she didn't know. He couldn't find it, and he looked away.

"What happened?" she whispered, finding it hard to speak clearly, and she coughed into her hand. Ron stiffened, folding his hands in his lap. There was silence. "Ron? What is it?" There was definitely something wrong, and she reached out for his hand, but her energy failed and she had to withdraw it when he didn't take it. Staring at her with conflicted eyes, he said,

"I was hoping you could tell me. Don't you remember what happened in the library?" As a matter of fact, she did now. Bits and pieces were coming back to her, and in a small voice Hermione retold,

"I was looking for a book when someone immobilized me, Zabini," She added. He nodded, waving her on. "He talked about Malfoy, and then began to threaten me. He," he cringed, "he touched me," Ron flinched, clenching his teeth, "and suddenly everything went purple and I turned around and he was on the floor." Both of them were aware that something was missing from her story, and Ron exhaled, rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes. Her brow furrowed as she recalled her palm and the blinding pain there. Things began to click as she looked down at the hand underneath her chin, seeing the ring. "It was as if some magical force just began to build up a pressure," she described, pulling back Ron's attention. "It burst with the light, canceling out Zabini's spell on me and knocking him unconscious. But my body couldn't take it, so I black out as well." The girl glanced up at him again, wary that she had said too little or perhaps too much. He understood, however, and sighed again before saying,

"Seeing as you lack energy and probably won't be able to do any magic for a few days, that would sound about right." She 'hmmed' and closed her eyes, seeking comfort from the blinding light. Now that she was awake she wasn't tired, but she hated the hospital wing when no curtains were down. Little red spots danced on the insides of her eyelids. "But Zabini wasn't knocked unconscious, Mione, he was found dead near you, signs showing that he died instantly." Her eyes flew open and immediately to the newspaper he had been reading. _Death Eater Dead At Hogwarts. 'Oh Merlin.'_ But she hadn't-

"Ron, I didn't kill him, I swear, I just-," she started, struggling to sit up, but he pushed down on her shoulder and looked into her eyes, honest as he whispered,

"I know, love, I know. But there's a dead Death Eater at the ministry right now." Wide eyed, she bit her lip and reached up to him as he sat down next to her on the bed, careful not to sit down on her arm on the process. Ron held her hand quietly, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. Hermione smiled thinly up at him, grateful she had her friends at least. But she still missed Malfoy.

'_Draco?'_ No answer.

"The author of that article spun it as a freak accident and didn't mention you," Ron comforted, shifting as her eyelids drifted closed again. "We were lucky in that sense." He got under the covers next to her, slipping his arms around her waist and letting her head rest against her shoulder. She settled against him happily, used to their platonic embraces. She quickly fell back into a calm sleep as he took soft light breaths, savoring his time with his best friend. Over time his feelings for her had moved from friendship to love, but he knew she had feelings for Malfoy, and that she needed him as support right now. Strangely enough, he felt he could accept that. He smiled, knowing that they were all growing up.

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Hermione spent three days in the Hospital Ward, regaining her energy. Ron had been gone when she had woken up, though Harry had visited briefly, bringing with him two yearbooks. He couldn't stay long and had left them on her bedside table, telling her that he and Ron would be gone for a few days following a lead on another horcrux. As the back of his robe flitted out the door, she regretted her inability to help her two haggard best friends. Instead Ginny joined her in flipping through the two yearbooks, the purpose of which Harry had not explained. The first was from 1975, and Ginny had fun finding Harry's parents and friends in their sixth year, giggling as she pointed out the candids catching Lily Evans and James Potter mid-argument, as well as capturing them kissing. In the picture next to the latter was what seemed to have followed, with Lily looking shocked by her own actions and one hand over her mouth while James jumped up and down and pumped his fist into the air, a sign of victory. Hermione reassured Ginny that soon enough she would be able to get back together with Harry again.

What they found almost immediately, however, was the page displaying the two Heads of the year, Alexander White and Cassandra Goshawk. Ginny had let Hermione pull the volume into her lap, and the redhead smiled at the thrill on her friends face. Strangely enough, Hermione had never actually seen a photo of her parents, and watched the picture wide eyed as her father waved and grinned at her, wrapping his arm around her blushing mother's shoulders, who tried to shrug him off but quickly relented. They both wore the blue and bronze Ravenclaw ties, and she recalled something the Sorting Hat had once told her. _'You would fit in well in Ravenclaw, I can see a lot of your parents in you.'_ Feeling just a little teary eyed, she examined her father's face, finding she had his eyes and nose, but her mother's face for the most part, though the resemblance was faint. She could understand how no one had ever seen a connection between herself and her parents.

"Oh Merlin," Ginny breathed with smile.

"What?"

"Your mom was blond!" The Head Girl laughed as she admired her mother's curly blond, shoulder length hair. Her father's was her own color brown, but was straight and kept fairly short.

After laughing and cooing at the different candids of the future Potters and Whites, they turned to the next yearbook, which was considerably older, marked 1942 – 1943. They both recognized the date as the year the Chamber of Secrets had first been opened by a fifth year Tom Riddle, and Ginny let Hermione hold it, just a little hesitant. There were fewer carefree candids and more posed pictures of students during class, seeming glum and downhearted. They found the full-page portraits of the two Heads, separate this time, and found Hermione's grandmother only, with very long, straight brunette hair that dripped in a long braid over her shoulder. Her luminous green eyes blinked up at Hermione, with the Ravenclaw tie once again present. Underneath her picture was the caption _'Iris White.'_

Apparently she wasn't the most social teenage girl because of the lack of spontaneous pictures, though there was one Hermione had found after Ginny left for dinner. It was taken outside, and she had to squint to recognize her grandmother sitting with a younger Slytherin on a stone bench in the snow, looking upset. They weren't talking, they weren't looking at the camera, and they weren't looking at each other. It was as if they had met by accident and didn't know each other at all, but there was a familiarity between them, shown by how close they seemed to be sitting, the boy's hand resting on the bench beside Iris' thigh. Hermione watched, unsure of what to think, as her grandmother sat silently next to Tom Riddle himself, for no apparent reason.

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**A/N: Yeah, I know the idea of Tom Riddle coming into things is wicked random and confusing, but I love the plot value behind this. And the story between Iris White and Tom Riddle is definitely fun, so even if I don't get into it in this fic, I'm writing a mini sequel dedicated to them. I'll possibly post it after WWMB itself is finished.**

**Anyway, any questions or comments? Once again I find myself having to reassure you that I will never abandon this fic or Magnetic Attraction, so stop yelling at me for why I haven't update. _School_, people. Real life. I can't always do fan fiction, I've got midterms coming up as well as a musical I'm in, and I'm still trying to nab a boyfriend, so I apologize.**

**No teaser this time, but I can tell you this. Continuing along the theme of Romeo and Juliet, there will be some movement along the idea of Paris, which is obviously Ron. Ginny and Harry struggle to stick with their friends only rule, and Hermione has a few hissy fits, which are always fun.**

**Happy holidays!**

**Final Word Count: 4232**


	17. What He Treasures Most

**A/N: So… hi! It's been what, four years? Five? I've gotten dozens of messages and reviews from readers asking me to finish this fic, and now that I have some free time for the summer and am a college student as opposed to a harried and angst-riddled fourteen-year-old, I'm going to do the best that I can to try to do so. I'll be honest with you all; when I started this fic I had no idea where I was going with it and made up plot points as I went along. As such, I didn't really have a concrete agenda in terms of how to end it. But I'll do the best that I can. Forgive the obviously unrealistic plot turns.**

**I wrote the first section of this chapter roughly four years ago, so I also apologize in advance for the sudden change of tone. At some point I'd love to go back and rewrite the rest of the fic, although that's a pretty serious undertaking. I reread the fic earlier today and was amused, appalled, and seriously entertained by the inexperience of my writing, but hey, that's life. **

**Anyway, I'll do my best to wrap up the fic, although I'm not sure how quickly I'll be updating. I might also upload a few oneshots this summer as well. I'd like to thank all the awesome reviewers who have reached out to me in the past, as well as recently, about my fics. Especially RipleysCaress and all the Dramione folks on Tumblr, who reminded me how amazing this fanverse is.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter. **

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**Chapter 17: What He Treasures Most**

Hermione had no opportunity to stew over her grandmother's apparent relationship with the younger Voldemort when she got out of the Hospital Wing. As soon as she sat down in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny rushed in saying Harry and Ron had returned having found and destroyed not one but two horcruxes. Even then, the trio received no break to relax and she hardly got a chance to congratulate them before they were forced to leave again. Ron's smile was apologetic as he kissed Hermione goodbye on the cheek, blushing, before stepping into the fireplace and flooing away to some undisclosed location. Surprised by his gesture but nonetheless pleased, Hermione sat down on the sofa next to Ginny, who was giving her a strange look.

"What?" Hermione asked in response to her searching expression. "Stop looking at me like that!" Ginny rolled her eyes, folding her legs underneath her. The two girls had been spending a lot of time together now that the boys were gone most of the time and they could do little to help the Order. This was, of course, not by their choice but because Ginny was still underage and Hermione was permanently on call as Head Girl.

"You are so oblivious, I can't believe it. What did Malfoy have to do for you to realize he liked you, lick your neck or something?" Ginny teased, earning a horrified look from her friend. The older girl blinked and added together the hints Ginny was giving her. Mistaking Hermione's silence as embarrassment, she stammered, "Oh Merlin, please tell me Malfoy didn't actually lick your neck!"

This snapped Hermione back to attention and she gave the redhead a scathing look before saying, "Of course not; don't be silly." She turned away from Ginny and stared at the floor. What she was proposing wasn't all that unlikely. Ron and Hermione had always been close, regardless of the common public fights that symbolized their relationship. But why would Ron have feelings for her now? She was in a relationship and they were both busy as hell lately. Ron was intelligent enough to know that now wasn't the right time for this. Or was he silly enough to think he had a chance?

But she was rationalizing. Love wasn't logical, she knew that very well. And it wasn't fair to think of Ron in such a patronizing fashion. It wasn't as if he was waltzing around the school singing love poems about her. He was just being a supportive friend, and had never mentioned this to her.

"Has he talked to you about this?" Hermione asked Ginny, looking back to the sixth year.

Ginny shook her head, but said, "He's talked to Harry, who mentioned it to me. That was a couple months ago." Months? Hermione stiffened in guilt. How could she have been unaware of this?

She'd been with Draco; that was how.

What could she do? She loved Draco. She loved him so much that every day away from him was agony. She had never said it to him but she knew it was the truth. And now she had a best friend who loved her as well. Hermione loved Ron but not in the same way. She had use to think that she and Ron were meant to be together, and she knew that if she had to, she could love him over time, but she would always love Draco.

"What on earth should I do now?" she whispered to Ginny, curling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.

The younger girl shrugged. "Don't ask me what to do. My love life isn't exactly perfect now is it?" Hermione took a serious look at Ginny now, noticing the wide circles underneath her eyes and the melancholy expression on her normally sunshiny face. Hermione knew very well that Harry missed his exgirlfriend tremendously, but forced himself to keep away from the younger girl in fear that she wouldn't be safe. He was torturing himself, and though Hermione knew he believed he was doing the right thing, she knew it was eating away at him. Perhaps he had made the correct decision, and with a tremor of guilty realization, she recalled part of Voldemort's message from earlier in the year. '_Harry Potter should guard what he treasures most, for he won't have it much longer_.' That was Ginny, she just knew it. What else could he treasure most? And how could she have forgotten? The Order should have been informed of the letter, as well as its contents. How could she have been so stupid?

Oh, now she remembered. She had kissed Draco immediately after. Smart, Hermione, very smart. Honestly.

So she chose not to pursue the conversation with Ginny about Harry, knowing that anything she could say could possibly put the vulnerable girl in danger. Changing the subject, she asked, "Do the boys know about Draco and I?"

This proved to be a great distraction, as Ginny was almost as bad as Parvati and Lavender when it came to gossip. Smelling the scent of drama like a wolf smells blood, she perked up immediately and watched Hermione steadily. "No one really knows, 'Mione. All we know are rumors. Is it true that you've 'polished his wand' on multiple occasions?"

If it weren't for the wry smirk across Ginny's face that accompanied her question, Hermione would have been upset. Instead she sighed and fiddled with the strap of her shoe, plotting her response. "I don't know what we are. A couple, yes. In love, I think so." Ginny smiled, and Hermione couldn't help but smile weakly back. "I just hope I get to see him again. He's not safe there."

Ginny placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine. It was harsh for Harry not to do anything to rescue him. But you can't blame him, he's always been driven and focused. Let him worry about the horcruxes." Hermione forced herself to nod, knowing she was telling the truth. "Snape is looking out for Malfoy. He won't let anything bad happen to him." That was also true. Snape seemed to care about Draco as much as she did. But how much could the death eater do without revealing his position as a double agent?

"No, he wouldn't." Hermione wasn't as sure as her words made her seem. As Ginny relaxed into the arm of the sofa, lost in thought and worries about Harry, Hermione stared into the licking flames of the fire and hoped with all her might that Draco was safe. That he was thinking of her, and was coming home soon.

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Several long, agonizing weeks went by. There were Order meetings, always tense and unsatisfying, filled with discussions of security measures, recruitment, and weaponry. There were concerns over spies planted in the Ministry, which seemed poised to topple any day despite Scrimgeour's insistence otherwise. Harry and Ron were away from school more often than not, always returning from expeditions covered in scrapes and bruises. The boys were constantly talking about the remaining horcruxes, debating what they could be and where they could be hidden. Hermione gathered that the locket and the cup had been destroyed, sliced open by the Sword of Gryffindor, but her friends seemed reluctant to talk about how that had come to pass and she didn't want to pry. If it were relevant to the remaining two horcruxes, they would have told her.

The reaction to her news of Voldemort's letter had been infuriated and emotional. Moody had scolded her severely for not informing them right away, his vibrant eye spinning violently as he yelled about teenage irresponsibility and self-involvement. If she had still been guilty, pushover Hermione Granger she might have agreed with him, but the White family ring thrummed around her finger and she stood up from the conference table, snarling right back. It wasn't until Harry smashed his fist against the table that they silenced, turning immediately to listen to the stony-faced young man next to McGonagall. "It's Ginny, isn't it?" he stated, hardly even a question. His voice was level but soft, and Mrs. Weasley gasped, only to be shushed by her husband. "What I treasure most."

"She'll be safe at Hogwarts," Mr. Weasley said firmly, though it did little to reassure the young man who now more than ever looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Even You-Know-Who said that, in the letter. He wouldn't bother attacking here."

"I'll watch her," Hermione offered, "And she'll be careful, she's not-"

"_No._" He studied the table, his voice hollow. "No, she can't know about this."

"But Harry-"

"As long as she's here and I'm not, she'll be okay. She doesn't need to know, it'll only… stir her up." He grimaced, his brow tightening. "Mr. Weasley's right, she'll be safe here."

Hermione remembered Draco's lifeless, bloody form sprawled across the hallway, as well as Blaise's attack on her in the library, but said nothing. Blaise was dead. Even if there were other spies in Hogwarts, they would not be as fearless now that their leader had been killed.

"I think it'd be best if I left school," Harry added.

"I'll come with you," Ron hastened to add, and Harry nodded mutely.

"Are you sure that that's wise, Potter?" Kingsley asked, doing his best to be respectful but still be listened to. "We need to consider your safety as well, and if Hogwarts is indeed the best place-"

"I can't… stay here. I can't. Not when things are getting worse, not now."

_Not now that there's been a direct threat_, Hermione finished in her mind.

"I agree with Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall decided, "It makes little sense for you two to stay here when you can be of more use elsewhere. You can resume your education when the situation is less… dire."

That settled, Harry and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower only to pack. They would be staying at Grimmauld Place until they had a clear plan, and then they would take up the hunt for the horcruxes full time. "Possibly Romania," Ron told her as she helped him stuff spare clothes into a magically-expanded duffle bag. "Or some of the Death Eater Manors. It'd be good to find out where Voldemort's stationed, even if we're not ready to attack him yet."

"Be careful," she sighed, "And please, if you find Malfoy-"

"Don't kill him, yaddah yadahh," he said, rolling his eyes. "I make no promises."

"Ronald Weasley-"

"Alright, alright. We'll try to keep you updated." He sunk onto his bed next to her, still clutching a rolled up pair of socks. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he curled an arm around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It'll be over soon, Mione. And then everything can go back to normal again."

His fingers tightened around her waist, and she bit her lip, twisting to face him. "Ron, it's not going to be like it was," she said, studying the freckles across his skin that she once had memorized. "I wish it could be that simple again, but too much has changed-"

"We're not talking about the war anymore, are we?" he asked, and her face softened, hearing the sadness in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said simply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest as he held her close. He still smelled like the Burrow and freshly mown grass and all the things she loved. But that was when she was Hermione Granger, and what she loved had changed along with her name. "This isn't the time to discuss it. We'll fight the war and win and figure everything out once it's over."

He seemed so sure. She wished she could believe him.

There was no doubt in Hermione's mind, the end was coming. At each meeting, the list of the dead grew longer, the scrimmages with Death Eaters more frequent and dire, the missing less and less likely to be found. Ginny retreated into herself even more now that Harry was gone, spending more and more time in her bedroom as opposed to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione tried to draw her out and spend more time with the high-strung red head, walking her to meals in the Great Hall and accompanying her to classes, until Ginny snapped in early November. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," the younger girl snapped outside of the portrait hole, fingers white-knuckled around the strap of her bookbag. "He asked you to watch me now that he's left. Well, you can _tell him_ that I don't need a babysitter, and I don't need people _older_ and _wiser_ looking out for me."

"He's just worried about you, Gin," Hermione had tried, but the Weasley was already half way down the corridor. She consoled herself with the knowledge that Ginny was probably just as safe on her own as she would be with Hermione. What Ginny lacked up in studiousness, she made up with sheer fire.

It seemed everyone else had simply forgotten about Draco's disappearance, preoccupied by research and politics, but for Hermione, his absence festered like a raw wound. She slept less and read more, creating mounds and mounds of notes on the prophecy, the White and Malfoy lines, and the mysterious White family ring that had started everything. She rummaged through his trunk, left open beside the fireplace, and dug out _Long Running Pureblood Lines_ for a little reconnaissance, reviewing everything she knew. Blah blah fated to be together, blah blah enemies for centuries, blah blah.

The book also had a brief passage on family rings, confirming several things she already knew or suspected. Most pureblood lines had family rings passed on through generations, usually featuring a family crest. They generally had a gem or some sort of stone, often engraved with the crest as well as complicated magic that mirrored the nature of the family. Protection spells were common, as well as anti-theft charms and portkeys to safe houses. The wealthiest, most ancient of pureblood families occasionally had rings that harnessed magical energy, either storing it over time or amplifying the magic of the wearer. Thinking back on her defensive spell against Zabini and the explosion of wandless magic that had saved her, she felt that this description matched the White ring. Her desperation and vulnerability had tapped into its power, strengthening her power or using the leftover magic of her ancestors. Either way, Hermione looked at the ring differently from then on and made sure to never take it off.

There were fewer results when she investigated the marks on her and Draco's palms, only a theory that tattoos often contained magic of their own. This was hardly news, as she knew that Voldemort used the Dark Marks to contact and summon his Death Eaters. She remembered running her fingers over Draco's inked arm and considered whether he had been summoned somehow to his father's side. Surely Snape and the Order would have prepared for such an event, it was hardly unimaginable. But it was a possibility she couldn't rule out. If the Dark Mark had led to his disappearance, it was possible their paired marks could bring him back. She was convinced the marks were the source of their telepathic communication, and if she could just figure out why he wasn't responding… Maybe he could hear her but the Imperious wouldn't let him answer?

_Draco_, she thought, trying to imagine him in her mind's eye. The memory of him the night before he left, gasping above her on the sofa, eyes wide and mouth parted, came to mind immediately, and she clenched her fist atop the desk, struck by a sudden pain and desperation. He had to be okay, he just had to be okay- _Draco, please. Can you hear me?_

But there was nothing, only the lapping of flames inside the fireplace.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to press her thoughts outward and digging her nails into the W on her palm. _Draco, are you out there? Are you there? Please, answer me, if you can. Tell me that you're okay._

Silence. It made her ache, the isolation crushing against her ribs. The mark burned lightly on her palm, and she gritted her teeth, praying that it wouldn't become worse. It had twinged on and off the past few weeks like Harry's scar used to, warnings for too many attacks, too many events to keep track of.

_If you can hear me, if you- if you're listening, just know that I'm okay, at least for now. I'll be fine, and you will be too, we'll both get through this. It's fated, right?_ She grimaced, curling inward to press her forehead against the desk. The aching in her chest increased, full of conversations they never got to have and things she never got to say. They had been robbed of so much, and now all she could do was talk to no one in her own head and wait for the war to be won outside the stone walls. It wasn't right. _Draco,_ she started, blinking back tears she hadn't noticed. _Draco, I love you. I need you to survive this with me. Please, try to survive this war with me. _

The mark flared, singeing at its edges, and Hermione yelped, studying the now vibrant red letter. "Oh no," she groaned, hissing as her hand burned. It subsided after a few minutes, but the dread brewing in her stomach remained. Whatever that meant, it couldn't possibly be good.

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As the floating sensation lifted, Draco became suddenly aware of several facts. His knees were smarting furiously after kneeling for quite some time on the stone floor. He was freezing, wearing only a thin black robe over his button down shirt and trousers. He was surrounded by Death Eaters, including his father lurking behind him. And the eyes of the Dark Lord himself were peering down at him with mingled curiosity and disgust.

At least he wasn't counting bloody ceiling tiles.

"Ah, Draco, back with us at long last," Voldemort cooed in that horrible, serpentine voice, and Draco flinched backwards, only to be shoved forward by the tip of his father's ridiculous cane. He sneered, biting back any pain, and did his best to fix his gaze at the floor. Experience had taught him last year that looking into the eyes of the Dark Lord hardly lead to frolicking at the Three Broomsticks. "We were starting to worry that we had lost you for good this summer, disappearing off into the ether without a trace. How good to see you as yourself again."

But Draco wasn't listening. His thoughts wheeled about in panic, full of questions about time and location and Hermione, where was she, how much did they know? How long had it been, had she realized he was missing, what happened a few days ago, or was it weeks, when he had heard her scream his name in terror? Was she alright?

"Of course you've been back with us in body for quite some time now, but we haven't yet heard your tales of Hogwarts, and we are all very interested, Draco. How was living in the Lion's Den?"

He had information. Not much, it wasn't like he'd been attending Order meetings or trusted with important plans, but he had lived at the headquarters for several months and then spent weeks in Gryffindor House. Even worse, he wasn't sure what information would be useful to the Dark Lord, perhaps schedules, confidences, brief encounters he'd already forgotten. And Hermione's skin, heated and slick against his as he buried his face in her curls, her nails digging into his back, little gasps into his ear. Fuck, he couldn't let him see, there was no telling what would happen if-

"Come here, Draco, speak to me," Voldemort commanded, and Draco clenched his eyes shut, trying to build the walls about his mind like Snape had told him. He wouldn't let them know, he wouldn't, he wouldn't- "_Come, _Draco."

His father kicked him forward, and Draco landed on his hands just a few feet from the Dark Lord. "There's no need for that Lucius," Voldemort scolded as Draco shivered, placing brick after mental brick up around Hermione and sweaty sheets and that dance at Slughorn's party that did him in for good. There was a slender, terrible hand wrapping about his jaw, dragging him up to stare into the deadly red eyes _no, no he can't look, he can't let them see_ but it was no use as the fingers tightened around his jaw and there it was in front of his eyes, the walls toppling, Tonks bringing him meals, Remus's hand-me-down clothes, the letter from Hermione's parents, laughing in Potions, kissing her in the Room of Requirement, seeing her tremble with fever and bossing McGonagall about in the Headmaster's office and comforting the youngest Weasley as she cried on the sofa and he hid in the bathroom, trying to give them their space to talk about Potter and how he was constantly leaving, looking for something, something that would bring them that much closer to ending the war.

It was a harsh snap back to reality as Voldemort thrust him backward onto the cold floor. Draco remembered with dread the letter, what Potter treasures most, and bit down hard on his tongue until he tasted blood. Voldemort was pacing now, twirling his wand between his thin fingers, and Draco tried to flick through what he'd just seen, what else could be important. Potter's trips? He'd always assumed they were looking for a weapon, but there was so much he didn't know, so much else it could be.

And then there was a voice, rich and warm and frightened from so very far away, calling his name. Asking him questions, questions he was too scared to answer lest the Dark Lord somehow hear the voice too. Hermione begged, pleaded with him to say something, but the Dark Lord was turning again, unsatisfied and much more angry than he had been before, and Draco could not even attempt a defense before his mind was no longer his own again. Voldemort kept pulling up memories of Potter and Weasley now, any brief encounter and hostile, one-sided argument, but there was nothing more informative, and Draco nearly cried when Hermione's voice continued, unaware that her intended audience was no longer alone with his thoughts. _Draco, I love you. I need you to survive this with me. Please, try to survive this war with me. _

He was flung backwards again before he could even process this, and then all he knew was pain.

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**A/N: So? Thoughts? Questions? Just want to say hi? Leave a review to let me know you're reading and what you liked or didn't! Man, does it feel good to be back.**


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